Showing posts with label 125th Pennsylvania. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 125th Pennsylvania. Show all posts

Sunday, October 07, 2018

'Vast cemetery': Death, destruction astonish Antietam reporter

"Our olfactory organs informed us, very perceptibly, that we were in the region of decaying animal matter, theAltoona (Pa.) Tribune reporter wrote. Here's Alexander Gardner's
 image of a dead horse of a 
Confederate officer near the East Woods. (Library of Congress)

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Five days after the Battle of Antietam, a reporter discovered a mind-numbing scene at Lyceum Hall, a public building in Hagerstown used as a United States Army hospital. A 125th Pennsylvania officer lay with a gunshot wound to the hip, the bullet nicking a bone; another soldier in the regiment endured with a "very painful" wound from a missile that had exited near his knee cap. On a couch, a sergeant rested with a gruesome abdomen wound.

"His case was at first considered hopeless," an Altoona (Pa.) Tribune correspondent noted about Edmund Russ, "but having survived the wound for a week, his physicians think that, with care, he will recover. He is much prostrated." As Sergeant Russ, a former printer at the Tribune, lay in agony in the West Woods on Sept. 17, 1862, an enemy soldier threatened him with a bayonet.

Some of the 125th Pennsylvania human wreckage the correspondent met in the hospital undoubtedly was familiar. Friends, neighbors — perhaps even a relative or two. Altoona was the principal town in Blair County, home for many of the soldiers in the nine-month regiment.

Eager to file a dispatch to his newspaper about the battle aftermath and first action of the 125th Pennsylvania, the reporter traveled early the next morning to the field. As he closed within a mile or two of Sharpsburg, Md., the stench of decaying animal flesh overwhelmed the senses. Hundreds of horses fell during the battle, too.

Then came the fallen tree limbs, bullet-riddled fence posts and trees and a cornfield "tread into dust." And then there were the graves of Union soldiers, so many that the battlefield seemed to be "vast cemetery."

Later, at makeshift hospitals at Samuel Poffenberger's farm and elsewhere, the reporter found more heart-rending scenes:

"A rebel had received a bullet wound which cut out both eyes and carried away part of his nose. Though apparently strong, his case seemed to us entirely hopeless."

"We witnessed an operation on a man who had been struck with a piece of shell on the top of his head, breaking the skull ..."

"Quite a number of the wounded at [a] hospital had been lying there for a week, with gun shot wounds in their arms and legs..."

"... many of [the wounded] were already beyond the reach of medical skill and were now struggling in the last agonies of death."

Published in the Tribune on Oct. 2, 1862, the correspondent's unbylined account appears below, accompanied by present-day battlefield images. The remarkable report took up nearly five columns in the Pennsylvania newspaper.



An illustration of Lyceum Hall in Hagerstown, Md., used as a Federal hospital during Maryland Campaign.

Visit to the Antietam Battle-Field & Hospitals


It is not our intention to attempt a full portrayal of the horrors which, in the early part of last week, marked the battle-field of Antietam, although we doubt not a portion of our account will be considered sufficiently horrible. We were told by those who had preceded us to this scene of destruction, that we obtained a sight of the tail end only. If that be so, we have no desire to see the whole animal.

While stopping in Chambersburg we had a sight of the Pennsylvania Militia who were encamped in that locality and all along the road from thence to Hagerstown. We found Col. J. J. Weitzel, of Harrisburg, with a knapsack on his back and a musket on his shoulder, acting under direction of the Surgeon in charge of the Chambersburg hospital. We also came across Jim Cramer, the "Model Conductor," figuring in the position of Post Master of the regiment to which Capt. McFarlane's Company was attached. Hon. Samuel Calvin, R. A. McMurtrie, candidate for Assembly, James Funk, late sheriff, Essington Hammond, and other notables of the town "over the hill," were in camp, and Jim told us that they performed guard duty cheerfully, and behaved themselves in all respects as became veteran soldiers.

Post-war image of 125th Pennsylvania
Sergeant Edmund Russ, who suffered
a  bullet wound to his abdomen
at Antietam. 

(History of The 125th Pennsylvania
Volunteers 1862-63
)


Our party arrived in Hagerstown on Monday, 22d ult., and immediately proceeded to the Lyceum Hall Hospital to look up the wounded of the 125th Regt. In this hospital we found Capt. C. R. Hostetter, of company D, who had received a gunshot wound in the right side, just above the hip bone, the ball just grazing the top of the bone. Although suffering severely at times, he was in good spirits, confidently expecting to be on his feet in a few days and return to take charge of his company. On another couch lay Serg't E. L. Russ, formerly a compositor in this office. He had received a gun-shot wound in the stomach, the ball passing out between his ribs on the right side. While the regiment was falling back from the position to which it had advanced, he loaded his gun as he moved, and would wheel half round to fire, and just as he was in the act of taking aim, the ball struck him. His case was at first considered hopeless, but having survived the wound for a week, his physicians think that, with care, he will recover. He is much prostrated. At his head lay A. C. Edwards, of Blair Furnace. He had received a gun-shot wound in the right leg just above the knee, the ball coming out at the cap of the knee. It is only a flesh wound, but from its proximity to the knee joint is necessarily very painful. He bears his lot with soldier-like fortitude. It is not likely that amputation will be necessary in his case. In another part of the hall we found Stephen Beales, from near Allegheny Furnace. He had received a painful gunshot wound in the left arm, just above the elbow. The arm was not broken, but from the fact that he had been almost a week without having it properly dressed, it was much swollen and very painful. It was properly dressed, before our leaving, and he was forwarded to the hospital at Harrisburg. Another cot contained Sergt. David E. McCahan, from near Hollidaysburg. He had received a flesh-wound in the leg, near the knee. Although of a serious character, he bore his misfortune nobly, evidently glad, as were all the others, that he had escaped with his life.

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There was a perfect jam of people in Hagerstown ere we arrived, and each succeeding train added to the number. In vain we searched for a conveyance to carry us to the battle-field, some eleven miles distant. Every horse and vehicle in the town and neighborhood had been pressed into the service of Uncle Sam, or hired at the most exorbitant prices, by curiosity seekers, or those in search of wounded or dead friends. All the hotels were filled to overflowing, and our endeavors to find accommodations therein were crowned with no better success than our search for a conveyance. A private citizen, on becoming acquainted with our mission and situation, kindly took in our party, thus dispelling our chances for sleeping on cellar doors with our carpet- bags for pillows.

Lodgings secured, we felt more comfortable, and turned our attention again to the wounded who were constantly arriving in ambulances and on foot. Those who had been wounded in the arm or shoulder, walked into town and gave their places in the ambulances to those who had been wounded in the legs or about the body and were unable to walk. Thus was kept up a constant stream of stragglers toward the hospitals. Some of the wounded were scarcely able to drag their weary limbs along with them, and appeared to find relief on being permitted to lie down on the pavement in front of the hospitals. When night closed in, every available space in the Court House and Lyceum Hall was occupied by wounded, sick and worn-out soldiers. In an upper room of the Court House were a number of secesh prisoners. Some of our soldiers looked hard enough, but the secesh looked far worse. We wonder how men who are no better clothed and fed can make even a show of fight.

Although the rebels had full possession of Hagerstown and surrounding country for four days previous to the battle, they did no damage to property. The citizens say they behaved themselves very well, with the exception of eating them out of everything in the eatable line. The testimony of the people is, that the Pennsylvania Militia did more damage than the rebels. This made us feel bad, when we considered that most of the people in Hagerstown and vicinity are Union. The rebels were evidently on their good behavior, in hopes of winning the people over to their cause. Failing in this, had they been permitted to remain much longer, they would have taken care of themselves.

An enlargement of an Alexander Gardner image reveals damage to a fence rail on Hagerstown Pike.
Even decades after the war, this fence at Antietam was riddled with bullets. 
(History of the One Hundred and Twenty-fourth Regiment, Pennsylvania Volunteers)

Having secured a conveyance, we left for the battle-field at half- past five o'clock on Tuesday morning, taking the Sharpsburg Pike. The atmosphere was sufficiently cool to render a shawl comfortable. Nothing worthy of special mention attracted our attention until we ascended a hill, about two miles this side of the battle-field. Here our olfactory organs informed us, very perceptibly, that we were in the region of decaying animal matter. On every rise of ground thereafter we were greeted with the same stench, yet we could see no marks of the battle. Thus we passed on until we arrived at the second toll-gate, which is on the extreme left of the line of battle, the line extending from thence beyond Sharpsburg, being some four and a half miles in length. Here we found the first evidences of a battle, in the limbs of trees cut off by artillery, and trees, fence rails and posts perforated with musket balls.

"The fields and woods were strewn with torn hats,
coats,  pants, 
shoes, canteens, haversacks,
 cartridge-boxes, muskets, 
 good and broken,
broken gun carriages," the Pennsylvania
reporter 
wrote. (Library of Congress)
Passing on a mile further, we came to the noted cornfield, in which, it is said, dead rebels lay as thick as cornstalks, after the battle. For the truth of this we cannot vouch, as all the dead had been buried ere we arrived, suffice it to say, however, the number of graves, and the manner in which they were piled into them, from 100 to 400 in a trench, were almost sufficient to confirm it. On this ground we, for the first time, realized the destructiveness of war, where large armies are engaged on either side. All we had previously imagined sank into insignificance when the reality met our view. Such a sight cannot be described. It must be seen to be comprehended. Fences, both rail and stone, were leveled with the ground. Fields of corn were tread into the dust and the whole face of the country resembled a wide wagon road.

The fields and woods were strewn with torn hats, coats, pants, shoes, canteens, haversacks, cartridge-boxes, muskets, good and broken, broken gun carriages, &c., and the graves of the Union soldiers, who had been buried where they fell, gave to every field the appearance of a vast cemetery. In all directions lay dead horses, some of which had been partly burned, but the task of thus destroying them was evidently too great for the force detailed for that purpose and they had been left to the elements and the buzzards. The salubrity of the atmosphere, in this locality was, in consequence, anything but agreeable, and we did not tarry long.

Samuel Poffenberger farmhouse, the "stone house hospital" described by the Pennsylvania reporter.
The original, well-worn steps at the Samuel Poffenberger farm house, a private residence today.

On every part of the field might be picked up unexploded shells, cannon and musket balls. Conical shells, very much resembling the old fashioned clock weights, appeared to have been most extensively used in this engagement.

From this field we passed to the first hospital in the rear of the battle-field, known as the stone house hospital. Here the scene beggars all description. Our own and the rebel wounded were thrown together promiscuously. Five of the rebel wounded, who had died the previous night, were carried out just before we arrived. Every room in the house, the porticos in front and rear, the barn floor and mows, all the stables underneath the barn, the wagon-shed, and around the straw and grain stacks, were crowded with the wounded, many of whom were already beyond the reach of medical skill and were now struggling in the last agonies of death. Among this number were men wounded in every conceivable manner, with shot and shell, in the head, body, arms and legs. What astonished us the most was that they were still alive.

Confederate dead at Antietam. "The secesh
 wounded, and the prisoners who were
 attending them, were
 a sorry looking
 set of mortals," the Pennsylvania reporter

 wrote. (Library of Congress) 
The secesh wounded, and the prisoners who were attending them, were a sorry looking set of mortals. Scarcely any of them had passable clothing, and many of them had not sufficient to cover their nakedness. We were heretofore disinclined to believe the reports we received, as to the destitution of the rebel army in this respect, but if we may take what we witnessed as a criterion, it is even worse than represented. It seemed to us that they all looked alike. They are all thin in flesh and sallow complected, and almost every one to whom we spoke admitted that they did not get enough to eat previous to their entrance into Maryland. A few bear the impress of intelligence, but most of them are evidently of the poorer class of the South, who, at home, are not as much respected as the slaves. Some of them were Northern men, by birth, who had settled in the South, and when the war broke out they were compelled to go into the southern army. All such expressed the intention of going so far North, on recovering from their wounds, that Jeff Davis would not see them again until the war was over. Others again were full-blooded "chivalry," and were not sparing in their denunciations of the Abolitionists, whom they vowed to fight to the last. One old man, a Captain, from Mississippi, who was wounded in the arm and knee, said that he considered it his duty, in case he got well, to take his place in the rebel ranks and try us again. No kindness or attention on the part of Union men make any impressions on the minds of bigoted Southerners. So far as concerned attention to the wounded, we could not see that there was any distinction made between Union and rebel.

We think it would be a bad idea to put the ununiformed militia of the North into the field against the rebels, especially if any of our volunteers were in the neighborhood, because of the similarity of the militia and rebel dress. We heard a number of our soldiers say that, in an engagement, they could not distinguish between them and would be as likely to fire into our own men as the enemy, unless the signals were very distinct. Scarcely two rebels that we saw were dressed alike. Their hats and caps are of every color and quality, and their pants ditto. Their coats were of cotton and mostly of two colors, light grey and walnut, hence the appellations of "grey backs" and "butternuts."

From the hospital above mentioned we passed to the one in which most of the wounded of Cap't Gardner's company had been placed. Here we found the house, barn, wagon shed, and every available spot filled with wounded. After looking up our acquaintances and doing all in our power for them, we walked through the house and barn examining the different cases. We had heard soldiers say that, by constantly mingling with and attending upon the wounded, they lost that feeling for them which they experienced at first sight. We thought this impossible, but two hours among them convinced us that it was possible. Sights which at first made us sick and compelled us to turn away, we could now look upon without a shudder. A gunshot wound in the arm, or leg was, apparently, of no account. We found one man who had been shot through the head just below the temples. It would appear impossible that a man thus wounded should live, yet this man, after having his wound dressed, was walking about the barn, talking with his companions and seemingly giving it little attention. Another man had been struck with a piece of shell which carried away one side of his face and part of his skull. He was still alive, but evidently could not last long.

A rebel had received a bullet wound which cut out both eyes and carried away part of his nose. Though apparently strong, his case seemed to us entirely hopeless. A piece of shell had carried away the roof of the mouth of a Union soldier. In his condition it was impossible for him to take nourishment in any other than a liquid state, and it was hard to think that he must die of starvation, if not from the effects of the wound. Another case was that of a young volunteer from Massachusetts. His thigh had been badly fractured so close to his body that amputation could not be performed, and the surgeon gave it as his opining that his life could not possibly be saved. We could multiply cases, but the above will be sufficient to give our readers an idea of the sights to be seen at one of these field hospitals.

Susan Hoffman's beautiful farmhouse, probably the "brick house hospital" referred to by the reporter.
Wounded were found in "every nook and corner about the house and barn" at the Hoffman farm,
 the reporter wrote.  (Read more about the Hoffman farm on my blog here.)

From this hospital we proceeded across the country, some two miles, to another, styled the "brick house hospital," where our lamented young friend, Fred. C. Ward, had died. Here we found some seven hundred wounded, occupying as before, every nook and corner about the house and barn. Two or three surgeons were busily engaged in amputating legs and arms, trepanning skulls, &c. We witnessed an operation on a man who had been struck with a piece of shell on the top of his head, breaking the skull. He had lain insensible from the time he received the stroke, on Wednesday, 17th, until the time the operation was performed, Tuesday 23d. As soon as the fractured bone was taken out and the depression removed from the brain, consciousness returned and it required four men to hold him until the wound was dressed. When the surgeon had finished and the man was lifted from the table, he walked several steps and appeared perfectly rational. The surgeon considered his case quite encouraging. Quite a number of the wounded at this hospital had been lying there for a week, with gun shot wounds in their arms and legs, and had not yet received medical attention. The reports sent out by newspaper correspondents, to the effect that the wounded were well cared for, no doubt had much to do with preventing the attendance of a sufficient number of physicians.

How men can survive their wounds so long, without proper attention, is a mystery to us. And yet you never hear them utter a word of complaint. It is a perfect school of patience. Each one appeared content to bide his time, thinking there were others more severely wounded who deserve attention first.

Present-day view of interior of Hoffman
 farm barn, used 
as makeshift hospital
 by the United States Army.
Night coming on, and there being no accommodations for stragglers in that neighborhood, the people having left previous to the battle and not yet returned, we set out for the camp of the Penn'a Reserves, distant about three miles. Persons who have never traveled in a strange country where no one knows any more than yourself, can have little idea of the difficulties attendant thereon. The battle-field was still thronged with citizens and soldiers looking up relics, and of every squad we inquired the way to the Reserve camp. Each party put us on a new route, right or left, and nearly always wrong. After having traveled about three miles, and laid out a pretty fair worm fence, we came on the camp of King's Division. Again we made inquiry -- some of the party directing in one direction and some in another, and almost quarrelling over their differences. One said it was half a mile to the right, another a mile and a half to the left, and so on. Finally we found a member of one of the regiments who conducted us to the spot, otherwise we might have wandered around half the night, and been within sight of the camp all the time. The men in the army know but little about any other than their own regiment, or at most, brigade, hence the difficulty.

Having found the Reserves and our acquaintances therein, we prepared to make ourselves comfortable for the night. Three of our party put up with Capt. Bohler, of company H, 12th regiment, of Indiana county. Capt. B. bears the reputation of being one of the finest officers in the corps, and certainly he is a perfect gentleman. He is what might be called a "fighting parson" being a Presbyterian minister by profession. When the Reserves were being mustered he gave up his charge embracing two appointments, and recruited a company of 84 men. He has been through all the battles with the Reserves, and his company has suffered severely, numbering at this time only 32 effective men.

The camp of the Reserves was immediately on the bank of the Potomac, opposite Sheppardstown [Shepherdstown], which latter place was occupied by the rebels. From the bluff on the opposite side of the river it would have been an easy matter for the rebels to have shelled the camp, and such a thing was not unexpected by the officers. While we would have no objections to witnessing such a truly grand sight after nightfall, we confess we would rather be more than half a mile distant at the time, and have the "clock weights," as the boys call them, fly in some other direction than toward us.

If any set of men in the army require rest for a short time, for the purpose of recruiting, it is the Penn'a Reserves. A little over one year ago they entered the army with full 11,000 men; now they number but little over 3,000 effective men. - Dr. Bower, medical director of the corps, informed us that that the loss of the Reserves in killed and wounded, in the late battles in Maryland, was 972 men. One company which went into the fight on the 17th of Sept. with forty men, came out with eight killed and twenty-seven wounded. The boys would like to have a rest for a few weeks, but nevertheless they express themselves willing to go at a moment's notice to any point where Gen. McClellan may order them.

Adjoining the Reserve camp was the camp of the 5th U. S. Artillery, to which is attached the company of men recruited in this neighborhood by Capt. John M. Clark, of this place. We found the Captain and the Altoona boys all right side up, so far as health was concerned, and looking none the worse of the hard service through which they have lately passed. The Captain's company has been strangely fortunate thus far. It was in all the engagements on the Peninsula, in the late Bull Run battle, and in all the battles in Maryland, and yet, if we remember rightly, it has lost but one man wounded.

"No one can form an idea of the scope of country which it requires to accommodate an army of the size of  that now under Gen. McClellan," the Tribune reporter wrote.
 Here, McClellan meets with President Lincoln 
 near the Antietam battlefield
in early October 1862. (Library of Congress)

Learning that Gen. McClellan's head-quarters were at Sharpsburg, about a mile below the Reserve camp, we concluded to pay a visit to that locality on Wednesday morning. The country in this section appears to be naught but a vast military camp. Every field and wood contains a regiment or brigade, and all the roads leading to the camps are filled with baggage wagons. No one can form an idea of the scope of country which it requires to accommodate an army of the size of that now under Gen. McClellan, or the number of baggage, provision and ammunition wagons necessary to keep it supplied, unless they go and see as we did. The baggage wagons are more in number than the ambulances, and on several occasions we observed trains of the latter more than half a mile in length, filled with wounded soldiers being conveyed from the field hospitals to the hospitals in Hagerstown and Frederick City. We doubt whether all the baggage wagons and ambulances of McClellan's army could be put on the road between this place and Tyrone (15 miles.) It certainly calls for a master mind to control and direct the movements of so vast an army. While planning a battle extending over four miles of ground, in which 100,000 on either side are to be engaged, he must descend to the arrangement of such seemingly small matters as that of having baggage trains move at the proper time and ambulances properly distributed over the field.

"Many of the houses were perforated
with balls and shells," the reporter 
wrote about
Sharpsburg. 
 The shell in the side of wartime
 resident 
Dr. Augustin Biggs' house on Main Street
 simulates that long-ago damage.
 (Photo courtesy Mark Brugh)
After viewing this stupendous concern, we readily perceived why so many generals, who are brave and successful at the head of a small force, utterly fail in maneuvering large armies, and, also, why a large army cannot be moved as rapidly as a small one. If Gen. McClellan did not regard the welfare of his men and pushed them ahead without caring whether his provision trains kept pace, he might advance more rapidly, but he would soon have fewer men. We think that if all the people of the north could get a sight of this vast army, they would not be disposed to grumble at slow movements, but, on the contrary, they would wonder how it was possible to move it from Washington to Sharpsburg as fast as "Little Mac" moved it. We have never, as journalists, or in any other way, complained of the slow movements of our armies, nor have we found fault with our chief officers for not doing this thing or that at such a time, and we now feel much less like doing so. We have seen enough to convince is that we know nothing about such matters, and that those who have not seen what we did know still less. If any reasonable man wishes to obtain satisfaction on this point we advise him to visit the battle-field of Antietam and the army of the Potomac. He will come away a wiser man by reason of having learned his ignorance.

We arrived at Sharpsburg about nine o'clock and proceeded to what was pointed out to us as Gen. McClellan's head-quarters. There was nothing about them to indicate that they were more than common soldiers' quarters, other than a small flag on the largest tent, and a guard of soldiers around it. We did not get a sight of the General, but in this we were not disappointed.

Returning, we walked through the town of Sharpsburg, made famous by the late battle. It is evidently an old town, judging from the appearance of the buildings, and contains but one main street. Many of the houses were perforated with balls and shells, during the battle, and yet a traveler, who did not know that such had been the case, might pass through the place dozens of times without noticing a single mark. As we were on the lookout for such evidences of the engagement we discovered a number of holes in the roof and sides of houses, plainly indicating that those localities were anything but healthful on the 17th ult. But one house in the place was set on fire by the shells. Most of the people left the town previous to the battle and those who remained took refuge in their cellars. So far as we could learn, none of the citizens of the place were injured, although one newspaper reporter has it that a child was killed. Quite a number of cows, hogs, and other domestic animals were killed.

"...the graves of the Union soldiers, who had been buried where they fell, gave to every field the appearance 
of a vast cemetery," the reporter noted. Next to the body of a young Confederate, a grave of a Union soldier.
(Library of Congress)
Leaving Sharpsburg we followed the pike leading through Keatysville [Keedysville] and directly over the battle ground. On the right hand side of the pike is a stone fence about four feet high and over a mile in length. Behind this fence, and in a large cornfield, on the left hand side of the pike, the rebels were posted in great numbers, and it was certainly one of their strongest positions. Our forces were compelled to advance upon them over open level fields, thus exposing themselves while the rebels were entirely sheltered.

"It is perforated through the roof and sides
 by dozens 
 of shells and balls, and is a complete
 wreck," the reporter wrote 
about
the Dunker Church, seen here in a cropped
enlargement 
 of an Alexander Gardner
 photo. (Library of Congress)
A lieutenant of an Indiana regiment told us that he was in the column which advanced upon that wall. As soon as the column came within musket range the rebels opened a murderous fire upon it, cutting down men by scores. The order was then given to "charge bayonets - double quick," whereupon the men sprang forward with a yell and the wall was soon gained. Having reserved their fire until this time, they now poured a terrific volley into the rebels, almost covering the road with dead and wounded. In the meantime our artillery had been shelling the cornfield before spoken of, and the rebels were in full retreat therefrom.

Just beyond the cornfield stands a small church which bears evidence of the ferocity of the conflict in that locality. It is perforated through the roof and sides by dozens of shells and balls, and is a complete wreck. The rebels had taken shelter in a wood just back of this church, from which it was designed to dislodge them by artillery. We had read of trees as large as a man's body being cut square off by balls and shells, but did not realize that such could be. Here, however, we had positive evidence of it. The ground was covered with limbs and tops of trees, the falling of which would have killed as many men as the balls and rendered the place more insecure than the open fields. From the numerous graves of union and rebel dead, the destruction of houses, fences, cornfields and woods, the dead horses lying around unburied, and the shells and balls which could be picked up at every step, we judge this to have been the most hotly contested part of the field. A house and barn situate about one hundred yards from the stone fence alluded to, was burned during the engagement, and every living thing about the premises was either killed or frightened away, as there was not even a chicken to be seen when we were there. If this be the condition of a country after one day's battle, what must be the condition of the valley of Virginia, over which the armies have been fighting for the last eighteen months?

     PANORAMA: The 125th Pennsylvania entered the West Woods near Dunker Church.
                                     (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)

We now come to refer to the part taken by "our regiment," the 125th Pa. Vols., in the battle of Antietam. It will be remembered that this regiment is composed of six companies from Blair County and four from Huntingdon County, hence we say our regiment. It will be remembered also that the 125th is one of the new nine month regiments, and that the battle of the 17th ult. was the first in which it took part. On the day of the engagement it had only been under organization about five weeks, and during that time the boys had received but little training. As soon as they arrived at Washington, about a week after their organization, they were set to work on trenches, and kept at that business until ordered into Maryland.

While on their march into and through Maryland they had no time for drill, all their halting time being required for refreshment and sleep. On the day preceding the engagement they were marched several miles, to a position in a ploughed field, where they were ordered to lie on their arms. At daylight on Wednesday morning, they were ordered up, without breakfast, to their position in the line. It is needless to say that every man was at his post and ready for the combat. After maneuvering backward and forward for a time, the regiment was ordered to advance and hold a position in the woods in front. Skirmishers were thrown forward to find the whereabouts of the enemy. They advanced about one hundred yards, and found the rebels in full force.

Sunset at 125th Pennsylvania monument
in West Woods.
After engaging them for a short time the skirmishers fell back to their places in the regiment and the whole line at once advanced. The battery, which had advanced with the regiment at the opening of the fight, had retired, having exhausted its ammunition, thus leaving it to contend, unsupported, against a full brigade of rebels. Our men at once perceived their perilous position, but having been ordered forward, they obeyed, the line never wavering. The rebels seeing the position of affairs, charged out with a yell, in full force, at the same time endeavoring to flank the regiment on the left. The boys stood their ground firmly, and would have been surrounded and captured, or cut to pieces, had not the Colonel given the order to fall back. A portion of the regiment did not hear the order and only became aware of it when they found themselves alone, and the rebels within twenty yards of them. The regiment made good its escape in the best order possible, but not without the loss of some as brave men as ever shouldered a musket. Had it been supported by a battery, as intended, the boys would undoubtedly have held their position and driven the rebels from the woods. When they fell back, the guns of Rickett's battery were sent up to cover up the retreat, and these, with a brigade of the Reserves soon made the rebels "skedaddle" faster than the 125th had done.

While mingling with the Reserves and other soldiers who had been near our boys during the action, we made inquiry as to their conduct, and the testimony on all hands was that they behaved like veterans. Rebel prisoners taken on the occasion say that there must have been a brigade of the boys, as no single regiment could have cut them (the rebels) up so badly in so short a time. Their superior officers, and all who witnessed their conduct on that trying occasion, award to the men of the 125th the highest mead of praise. All honor to the 125th. Blair County has boasted of her 84th, and she can now boast of her 125th. The latter has brought no discredit upon the former.

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HAT TIP TO: 
Blog reader Pat Gonsman for calling this story to my attention

Monday, April 10, 2017

'Til death do us part: What Union soldiers left behind

Unidentified Union soldier and a woman, presumably his wife.
(Liljenquist Family Collection | Library of Congress)
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Although the marriage documents below don't have nearly the visual impact of the photograph of the couple above, they do have a certain poignancy about them. Each piece of paper, found in Civil War widow's pension files in the National Archives, represents a union tragically ended or disrupted during a brutal war that forever altered the lives of hundreds of thousands of families. Two of the documents are in German, likely denoting the marriage of immigrants to the United States.  Another was completed in England, before the couple journeyed to America to begin a new life. Here are snapshots of the lives of those Union soldiers:

National Archives via fold3.com.
CLICK ON ALL IMAGES TO ENLARGE.
KILLED AT PORT HUDSON ON MAY 27, 1863:  Official word of Joseph H. Matthews' death apparently didn't reach his family in Michigan until weeks after he was killed during an assault on the Rebel fortress along the Mississippi River.  The 6th Michigan private "was a good soldier respected by his comrades," Sergeant Lewis Tryon wrote to Phoebe Matthews on Oct. 15, 1863. "I don't think that he lived anytime after he was shot. He was shot with a minie ball through the breast. He was close to the enimes works. He was buried with all the respect that could be shown in sutch a place."

No mementoes of the 29-year-old soldier were sent to Mrs. Matthews.

After the battlefield burial at about midnight, Tryon went through Joseph's pockets but only discovered a watch and a box of tobacco. The timepiece was given back to the soldier from whom Joseph bought it. Matthews' knapsack was found at the river, where he had left it before the assault, and given to the regiment's orderly sergeant. "[He] has since died," Tryon wrote, "and I don't know what has become of the things ..." Joseph's blanket and overcoat were lost on the battlefield.

In addition to Phoebe, whom he married on Jan. 8, 1855, Joseph was survived by four children: William, 8; Albert, 6; John, 4; and Frederick. 2.

National Archives via fold3.com.
MORTALLY WOUNDED AT ANTIETAM ON SEPT. 17, 1862: Wounded in the leg near the Dunker Church, Private Nicholas Decker of the 125th Pennsylvania was transferred to Camp G hospital near Frederick, Md. His leg was amputated, and Decker died on Oct. 11, 1862, leaving behind three children: Maria, 8; Letitia, 6; and William, 2. Elizabeth Heifner, whom he had married in Huntingdon, Pa., on Dec. 16, 1852, died in 1861.

National Archives via fold3.com
KILLED AT FREDERICKSBURG ON DEC. 13, 1862: Richard Keegan, a private in the 69th New York of the famed Irish Brigade, married Ann Carroll at the Church of St. Joseph in New York on Oct. 7, 1853. He also left behind two children, Mary, 8, and Frank, 3.

National Archives via fold3.com.
KILLED AT FREDERICKSBURG ON DEC. 13, 1862: Matthew Robbins, a private in the 142nd Pennsylvania, married Margaret Swift on Sept. 1, 1862, in Connellsville, Pa. The couple had no children. Margaret died in 1902, having never re-married.

Narional Archives via fold3.com.
DIED OF DISEASE ON SEPT. 20, 1862: Joseph Heiland, an orderly sergeant in the all-German 20th New York, suffered from "disease of the lungs" at Harrison's Landing, Va., in July 1862, according to the regiment's surgeon. He died months later in a hospital in West Philadelphia, leaving behind a wife named Mary, whom he married in 1854 in New York City, and a daughter named Eliza, not quite 10 months.

National Archives via fold3.com.
DIED OF DISEASE ON FEB. 15, 1864: John Freeman of the famed 54th Massachusetts, one of the first black regiments during the war, married Charity Thomas in Burlington, Vt., on Dec. 1, 1858. When he enlisted as a private on Dec. 16, 1862,  he also left at home a 3-year-old daughter named Mary. Shortly after he was mustered into the army, according to a comrade, he contracted a "disease of the throat" that bothered him during the regiment's journey south. In the winter of 1863, his condition worsened, and he died of "quinsy" at U.S. General Hospital in Beauforrt, N.C.

National Archives via fold3.com.
KILLED IN A SKIRMISH ON JUNE 7, 1862: Christian Essig, a private in the largely German 4th Kentucky Cavalry, married Elizabeth Albert in a ceremony at a church in Sandusky, Ohio, on Jan. 21, 1851. The couple had a daughter named Mary in 1856. While returning to Murfreesboro, Tenn., on scouting mission, the 4th Kentucky Cavalry was confronted by Nathan Bedford Forrest's horsemen, and Essig was shot and killed. Elizabeth re-married in 1863.

National Archives via fold3.com.
DIED OF DISEASE ON JULY 31, 1862:  On Oct. 29, 1848, 28-year-old miller James Cable, the son of a cordwainer, marrried 24-year-old Savannah March, whose 'condition" was listed as "spinster," in the Parish of Longsgtock in Southhampton, England. The couple moved to America with their son George, settling in Boston, where they had two more children, Elizabeth and William.

On July 25, 1862, Cable, a private in the 29th Massachusetts, suffered from a bad case of pneumonia and was admitted to the U.S. General Hospital in Point Lookout, Md. He died there six days later. On Aug. 1, 1863, the Point Lookout head surgeon wrote a short letter to Savannah noting the meager effects her husband left behind: one cigar case and a silver watch. "By you sending a receipt with the necessary expenses to forward them to you," the surgeon matter-of-factly wrote, "they will be sent."

National Archives via fold3.com.
DIED AFTER WAR FROM EFFECTS OF BATTLE WOUNDS: When he arrived at Armory Square General Hospital in Washington on May 28, 1864, Douglas Murray was in ghastly shape. At Spotsylvania Courthouse on May 18, a Rebel artillery shell had broken his collar bone and four ribs and mangled his left arm, necessitating amputation three inches below the shoulder. A little more than six months later, the sergeant in 63rd New York,  part of the Irish Brigade, was discharged because of the disability to go home to his wife , Mary Ann, and their three children: James, 8; Catharine, 5; and Elizabeth, 4. (The Murrays had another child, Susan, born in 1866.)

Douglas' wounds plagued him the rest of his few remaining days. While in Carlisle, Pa., where he married his wife in 1855, he came down with "traumatic fever" in the summer of 1866, apparently a result of the battlefield wounds he had suffered a little more than two years earlier. Sent to a hospital in Washington, he died there on July 19, 1866.

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Saturday, December 03, 2016

Antietam Then & Now: Pennsylvania veterans return

               (Hover over image for "Now" scene; does not work on phones or tablets.)

In the years following the Battle of Antietam, veterans returned to the battlefield, many to attend the dedication of their monuments there. On Sept. 17, 1904, old soldiers in the 124th Pennsylvania were photographed at their monument at the intersection of Starke Avenue and Hagerstown Pike on the day of its dedication. During their visit, many of them scoured the fields for war relics and pointed out to their families where they were on that bloody day.

Some simply wondered how they survived.

Veteran Joseph Hawley near the Hagerstown Pike, where he was wounded in 1862.
(Images above from History of the 124th Pennsylvania Volunteers 1862-63)
In 1900, 124th Pennsylvania veteran Joseph Hawley returned to Antietam and stood on the spot near the Hagerstown Pike where he was wounded in the neck on Sept. 17, 1862. After he was shot, the colonel was carried to the nearby farmhouse of David R. Miller and was later taken to Hagerstown, Md., to recover. Hawley, who was 78 when he died in 1915, carried the bullet in his neck for the rest of his life.

Twelve years before Hawley's visit, men in the 125th Pennsylvania had their photo taken by the battle-scarred Dunker Church, near the West Woods, where they were routed on the morning of Sept. 17, 1862. Upon his return to Antietam in 1904, Morris Davis, a private in the 125th Pennsylvania, read aloud his poem about the battle to a group of veterans gathered there. It began:
Antietam : Gentle peaceful stream.
Upon thy banks so fair,
 
What memories, to the mind will turn
Of one who lingers there.
And it ended:
May the great God, who rules above.
And guides the affairs of men.

Forbid, in his infinite love
Such fratricide again.

--More Then & Now images HERE in large format. 
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Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Antietam soldier snapshots: 'What desolation fill'd our home'

A figure of color sergeant George Simpson,  killed in the West Woods at Antietam, 
tops the 125th Pennsylvania's monument on the battlefield.
               125th Pennsylvania entered the West Woods behind the Dunker Church.

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After the bullet tore through his bowels at the Battle of Antietam, 125th Pennsylvania Private John Rose of Company D was carried to a barnyard-turned-field hospital, where he died the next morning, Sept. 18, 1862. Two wounded comrades observed the 21-year-old soldier's pockets being emptied after his death, the contents turned over to a lieutenant in the regiment for delivery to friends, before the son of  John and Sarah Rose was buried in a makeshift grave nearby.

An iron worker in Altoona, Pa., John lived with his parents and was the "main and almost only support" for his mother and sickly father, whom he gave most of his $6 weekly wages. "Another family circle mourns a loved one lost," reported the Altoona Tribune a little more than three weeks after the death of Rose, whose remains lie in an unknown grave. The private's hometown newspaper also published a few words by noted poet George Morris, an expression of "the sentiments of parents and friends":

He died, as he had lived, beloved,
without an enemy on earth;
In word and deed he breathed and moved,
the soul of honor and of worth:
His hand was open as the day, 
his bearing high, his nature brave;
and, when from life he pass'd away,
our hearts went with him to the grave.

What desolation fill'd our home
when death from us our treasure born,
Oh! for the better word to come
where we shall meet to part no more:
The hope of that sustains us now,
In that we trust on bended knee,
While thus around his faded brow,
we twine the wreath of memory."

The grave for Private Joshua Cretin's wife, Sarah, in
Saint Augustine Cemetery in Cambria County, Pa.
The soldier's final resting place is unknown.
(Find A Grave)
For families of  other Blair, Cambria and Huntington county soldiers in the 125th Pennsylvania, there was plenty of grim news after Antietam. Mustered into the Union army only six weeks earlier, the nine-month regiment suffered 54 killed among 229 casualties on Sept. 17, 1862, mostly in the West Woods behind the small, white-washed Dunker Church. Soldiers in the regiment, one veteran noted decades after the war, fell "thick as leaves of autumn" during fighting in the West Woods. (See interactive panoramas in this post.)

Recalled Lieutenant Theodore Flood, whose Company C shouted its motto "In God We Trust" as it went into battle:
"As we stood firing into the ranks of the enemy [in the West Woods] the second man to me, George A. Simpson, while bravely holding the flag aloft, was hit with a bullet from a Confederate gun, which pierced his brain, and he fell dead. A second man picked up the flag, and he was shot down. A third, and he fell; the fourth took it up, and he was shot and fell."
Initially diagnosed with a mortal wound, Simpson's brother, John, survived because a bullet narrowly missed vital organs after passing near his ribs. Thanks to "careful home nursing," the sergeant survived and became an attorney after the war. He never showed his Antietam scars for "public gaze."

Antietam victims in 125th Pennsylvania: Private James Long is buried in Carson Valley Cemetery
in Duncansville, Pa.; Private Lewis McDermitt is buried in Saint Augustine Cemetery
in Cambria County, Pa. (Find A Grave left and right)
Struck in the leg by a gunshot and in the back by a "shell or ball," Private Joshua Cretin died of his wounds, an especially cruel blow for his wife, Sarah, who was pregnant with the couple's third child. Married a little more than five years, the 37-year-old soldier in Company K left behind two young children, Sarah Jane, 4, and John Andrew, 1. Almost two months after her father was killed in action, Mary Elizabeth Cretin was born. (Nearly two years later, Sarah's brother, Daniel, a private in the 190th Pennsylvania, died in Alexandria, Va.)

Wounded in the thigh, Lewis McDermitt, a 23-year-old private in Company K, lingered for nearly two weeks after his leg was amputated and died at Hospital No. 6 in nearby Boonsboro, Md. After Lewis' death, his widowed mother sold her unmarried son's unfinished house for $275, using much of the proceeds to settle his debts and pay for his funeral. His mother planned to live in the house once her son returned from the war.

After nearly five years of marriage, 21-year-old Elizabeth Lier became a widow when her husband, John of Company E, was killed instantly when a bullet struck him in the head. She was left to raise their 1-year-old son, Daniel.  A 28-year-old private in Company G, James Long survived until Feb. 5, 1863, when he died of a gunshot wound to his left thigh in a hospital in Frederick, Md. He left behind a wife named Caroline and two young daughters, Susan, 4, and Sarah, 4 months.

"He served his country faithfully," Long's pastor noted at his funeral on April 23, 1863, "[and] poured out his life on the altar."

SOURCES:

Find A Grave

History of the One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Regiment, Pennsylvania Volunteers 1862-1863, J.B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, 1906

Hollidaysburg (Pa.) Democratic Standard, April 28, 1863

Reimer, Terry, One Vast Hospital: The Civil War Hospital Sites in Frederick, Maryland After Antietam, The National Museum of Civil War Medicine, Frederick, Md., 2001

John Rose, Lewis McDermitt, James Long, Joshua Cretin and John Lier  pension files, National Archives and Records Administration, Washington via fold3.com.

         West Woods: Where 125th Pennsylvania, 34th New York suffered heavy losses.

            CLICK HERE FOR ALL MY INTERACTIVE BATTLEFIELD PANORAMAS.
The 125th Pennsylvania and Confederates blasted away at each other in the West Woods.

Sunday, April 10, 2016

'Best and bravest': Private Erastus Kinsel's ordeal at Antietam

East Woods at Antietam at sunrise: Private Erastus Kinsel may have been wounded near here.
Another view of the replanted East Woods,  where Erastus Kinsel may have been wounded.
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On Sept. 22, 1901, citizens throughout Blair County traveled to a cemetery in rural Antis Township, Pa., for the dedication of a war memorial to honor soldiers who were buried there. After a prayer, the monument was unveiled and patriotic speeches were delivered -- including one by a 125th Pennsylvania veteran, who noted the death by assassin's bullets eight days earlier of President William McKinley, a Civil War veteran himself.

Josiah Hicks: The former Congressman
spoke of  Erastus Kinsel's death
at the unveiling of a memorial in 1901.
Former U.S. congressman Josiah D. Hicks, who served as a private in the regiment, also "carried his hearers into some of the dreadful scenes of that struggle," the local newspaper reported the next day, in reference to the Great Rebellion. Another speaker called the cemetery, where 40 soldiers from Antis Township from all American wars lie buried, "sacred ground."

After a list of local men who had fallen in battle was read, a reverend spoke of "the courage and discipline of a soldier -- of his intelligence" and the need to be "worthy successors and worthy descendants of the heroes who preserved for us this country." A man from nearby Bellwood sang a solo version of  Mr. Volunteer, and the crowd later burst out in unison with a rendition of  America.

The nearly 10-foot memorial made of American marble was the brainchild of a local dentist, John M. Kinsel, who not only paid for it with $150 out of his own pocket but designed it, too. The account in the Altoona (Pa.) Tribune made no mention of any speech given that early fall day by Dr. Kinsel, who, as a 17-year-old 39 years earlier, had enlisted in the 125th Pennsylvania. The veteran may have left all the reminiscing to Hicks, who made special mention during his speech of the Civil War sacrifice of another soldier in the 125th Pennsylvania: Erastus Kinsel, John's father.

Even after the passage of more than four decades, a deep family wound may have been too fresh for the 56-year-old dentist.

On Sept. 17, 1862, John and Erastus fought side-by-side in Company A at Antietam, the 125th Pennsylvania's first battle of the war. The elder Kinsel, 40, suffered numerous bullet wounds -- he was one of more than 200 casualties in the 125th Pennsylvania that awful day -- and lay between the lines in no-man's land until he was carried from the field the next morning by comrades.

Erastus and Christinia Kinsel had six children, according to the 1860 U.S. census. (fold3.com)
John and Erastus Kinsel enlisted in the Union army in early August 1862, a little more than a month after President Lincoln's call for 300,000 volunteers. John was the second-eldest child of Christinia and Erastus Kinsel, a day laborer whose personal estate was valued at a modest $150, according to the 1860 census. The Kinsels had five other children, according to the census-taker: Susan, 16; George, 12; Thomas, 10, James, 8; and Rebecca, 6.

One can only imagine Christinia's anxiety when her eldest son and the husband with whom she had been married for more than 19 years left for Camp Curtin in Harrisburg. There they would briefly be trained in how to fire a weapon, how to march and other finer points of army life before they were sent to serve in the defenses of Washington and then on to join the Army of the Potomac. Because the 125th Pennsylvania was a nine-month regiment, perhaps Christinia held out hope that John and Erastus soon would return.

But the war's outcome was anything but certain that summer.

In June and early July 1862, the Army of Northern Virginia under its new commander, Robert E. Lee, had beaten back the Union army's attempt to take Richmond. In August, Lee's army was preparing to take the war north. In response to the Rebel army's crossing of the Potomac River into Maryland in early September 1862, the 125th Pennsylvania marched from Washington to Frederick, Md., and on to Sharpsburg. Early on the morning of September 17, the Pennsylvania boys were sent into action.

                 125th Pennsylvania entered the West Woods behind the Dunker Church.
The 125th Pennsylvania fought in the East Woods (4), through the infamous Bloody Cornfield at left
 and into the West Woods before it was forced to retreat. The Smoketown Road (1) is at right.
(The Maryland Campaign and The Battle of Antietam, Miles Clayton Huyette, 1915)
West Woods: 125th Pennsylvania suffered most of its casualties here.
       7th Michigan, 125th Pennsylvania and 34th New York fought here in West Woods.

Exactly where and when Kinsel was severely wounded at Antietam is unknown. He may have been shot in the East Woods, where the regiment was heavily engaged. Or more likely it was near the Dunker Church, where the 125th Pennsylvania entered the West Woods before it was smashed by a vicious Rebel counterattack. "On looking around and finding no support in sight," the regiment's colonel wrote of the fighting there, "I was compelled to retire. Had I remained in my position two minutes longer I would have lost my whole command."

In any case, Erastus suffered his first wounds "in the hottest of the fight" when two bullets struck him at nearly the same time -- one in the hip that caused a wound  "at least one inch and half in depth and five inches in length," according to Dr. Andrew P. Calderwood, the family physician, who first examined Kinsel a little more than a month after his wounding. Another bullet crashed into Erastus' right leg, just below the knee, and smashed into his left leg.

Pennsylvania Gov. Andrew Curtin gave Kinsel
an "open  furlough" to return home to recover 

from his Antietam wounds.
(Library of Congress)
"At this juncture he fell," Calderwood noted. "Our lines fell back. He loaded his gun for the purpose of shooting a rebel that he observed close by picking off our men. He had turned his face to the advancing Rebels, and while resting upon his elbow and in the act of putting on a cap, [another] ball struck him immediately ... at the left collar bone, passed down underneath the shoulder blade, crossed the vertebrae and was cut out at upper portion of hip bone." A bullet wound through Kinsel's right calf caused the inflammation of nearly his entire leg, the doctor wrote, and nearly caused his death.

Erastus was initially taken to a makeshift field hospital, where his wounds were dressed, before he was transferred to Franklin Hall hospital in Chambersburg, Pa., about 40 miles north. Two weeks after Antietam, he was overcome by bacterial infection in the wound in his right leg, leaving him "completely prostrated." Word of his condition reached Pennsylvania Gov. Andrew Curtin, who had known Erastus since he was a boy. The governor gave Kinsel an "open furlough" on October 17, one month after Antietam, allowing him to recover at his home in Blair Furnace, Pa., near Altoona.

Transported on a stretcher, Kinsel was "extremely low" when he arrived home, noted Calderwood, who added:
We were compelled to give him the strongest stimulants & tonics for several weeks after his arrival. Owing to his great loss of blood, the severe attack of Erysipelas and great extent of granulating surfaces his aneameia [sic] was extreme. Notwithstanding he was secured every attention, good diet, best tonics and the attendance of a faithful, self-sacrificing companion and my careful attention, the improvement was very slow.
By March 1863, Erastus still suffered from his many wounds. He needed a crutch and/or cane to move about. Pieces of bone worked their way out of his injured left leg. Despite his plight, Kinsel was preparing to visit Gov. Curtin in Harrisburg, but "no one considered him able for the journey," Calderwood noted. An examination by another doctor in late March revealed new health problems -- Kinsel had developed a severe fever, "which developed itself in smallpox" three days later.

"He was quite debilitated," the physician noted, "from the wounds he had received at the battle of Antietam, one of which (in the hip) was still painful." On April 5, 1863, nearly seven months after he was wounded, Kinsel died at his home. For at least two days, Kinsel's remains lay in his house, apparently untouched because of the fear of the spread of smallpox.

"It is sickening, and appears inhuman," the Altoona Tribune reported on April 7, 1863, "when we view the case and think of the situation of his family, and yet we cannot blame those who have never had the disease for not going to inter him, as it would be almost certain contagion, but we think there might be those who have passed through it who would be willing to undertake the task."

Pension file document signed July 31, 1863, by Kinsel's commanding officer, Francis Bell, who 
noted the private  received a furlough to go home to recover from his Antietam wounds. 
(National Archives via fold3.com)
Christinia Kinsel was not entitled to a widow's pension, according to a government bureaucrat.
(CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE)
A special act passed by
Congress in the winter of 1868 approved
a pension for Rebecca Kinsel, Erastus'
youngest daughter. (fold3.com)
In July 1863, Christinia began the slow process of obtaining a widow's pension from the government. The two local doctors who had examined Kinsel before he died strongly supported her claim:

"I firmly believe he would have recovered had it not been for greatly impaired state of the system from loss of blood and exposure on the field," one of them noted.

"I stated in my previous letter, and I will repeat the same again that it was the impoverished or anemic condition of the blood that rendered him an easy victim to small pox," Calderwood said. "These are the facts. Any number of witnesses can be added if required. I have no interest in this matter except that of humanity and to aid in having justice done. My dear sir allow me to assure you that you could not have a more deserving a case."

But the claim initially was rejected. Erastus had died of "small pox, a disease not contracted in the line of duty," a government bureaucrat wrote, "[and]  the widow is not entitled to a pension according to the strict rendition of the law.".

The case dragged on.

In late winter 1868, the plight of the Kinsels came to the attention of Congress, which passed a special act on February 21 finally approving Christinia's claim. Her youngest child, 14-year-old Rebecca, was also approved to receive $8-a-month assistance from the government.

A little more than two weeks later, on March 10, 1868, Christinia Kinsel died. She was buried in Antis Cemetery near her husband -- one of the "best and bravest of men" -- who had been severely wounded at Antietam more than five years earlier. **


(Do you have a photo of Eratus, John or Christinia Kinsel? E-mail me here.)

Erastus Kinsel's marker in Antis Cemetery, near Altoona, Pa. (Find A Grave)
** "best and bravest of men" reference from Dr. Andrew Calderwood affidavit on March 29, 1864, in Kinsel widow's pension file.

SOURCES:

--1860 U.S. Federal census

Erastus Kinsel pension file documents (National Archives via fold3.com)
-- 125th Pennsylvania Captain Francis M. Bell affidavit, July 31, 1863
-- Dr. Andrew P. Calderwood affidavit, March 29, 1864
-- Unknown doctor's affidavit, possibly J.M. Mcbey, April 2, 1864
-- Dr. Andrew P. Calderwood affidavit, Unknown date in 1867

--Altoona (Pa.) Journal, Sept. 23, 1901