Monday, October 10, 2016

Antietam Then & Now: Pennsylvania artillery battery

Alexander Gardner's image of  Knapp's battery was taken near the present-day visitor's center.


Click here for a larger presentation of Then & Now images for desktop and tablet.

Wednesday, October 05, 2016

Antietam hospital scene: 'Hold my hand till I die'

        (HOVER OVER IMAGE | Then: Library of Congress collection | Now: John Banks.)

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In 1862, this farm was owned by Dr. Otho J. Smith, whose property was used as a hospital for Union and Confederate wounded after the Battle of Antietam. On or about Sept. 20, 1862, Alexander Gardner shot four photographs at the farm, about a mile from the battlefield (see Google Earth view below), while wounded soldiers occupied Smith's barn and outbuildings. (See hereherehere and here.) Other wounded were cared for in makeshift tents covered with straw.

Elizabeth Harris, wife of a Philadelphia physician, and another nurse, Maria Hall, aided the wounded on Smith's farm, the division hospital for Union General William French. Harris described a heart-rending scene:
"... then came on to French's Division hospital, where were one thousand of our wounded, and a number of Confederates. The first night we slept in our ambulance; no room in the small house, the only dwelling near, could be procured. The next day was the Sabbath. The sun shone brightly; the bees and the birds were joyous and busy; a beautiful landscape spread out before us, and we knew the Lord of the Sabbath looked down upon us. But, with all these above and around us, we could see only our suffering, uncomplaining soldiers, mutilated, bleeding, dying. Almost every hour I witnessed the going out of some young life. No words can describe the wonderful endurance -- not a murmur, not a word of complaint or regret.
"Many such expressions as the following have been heard: 'Yes, I have struck my last blow for my country; whether I have served my country well others may judge. I know I love her more than life.' The lip quivered with emotion, and the face was full of meaning, as he added, 'I am done with all this, and must meet eternity. I have thought too little of the future. I had a praying mother. O that I might meet her!' Another, a mere youth, with full, round face and mild blue eyes, said, 'Hold my hand till I die. I am trying to think of my Saviour; but think of my mother and father; their hearts will break.' "
Smith's farmhouse, barn and outbuildings were torn down about the turn of the 20th century. My friend Richard Clem, a Washington County (Md.) historian, told me that on sunny days, he saw broken glass from old medicine bottles glistening in this field -- further evidence of the farm's long-ago use as a hospital.

Cropped enlargements of the original Gardner image reveal interesting details:


Split-rail fences -- including a broken section ...


... a massive hay stack and a soldier apparently staring at Gardner and his camera ...


... and one of several tents covered with straw, a temporary shelter for wounded soldiers. Who knows what suffering took place there?

         Alexander Gardner shot image from approximately upper left of dark-green field.


SOURCE:

-- Moore, Frank, Women of The War, Their Heroism and Self-Sacrifice, Hartford: S.S. Scranton & Co., 1866.

Sunday, October 02, 2016

The art of war: A double-rack 'organ' of Springfield muskets

 
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We usually equate the implements of war with death and destruction. As this double-rack organ of 645 1861 Springfield muskets at the Springfield (Mass.) Armory National Historic Site shows, that need not always be the case. After muskets were assembled, this is the way they were stored back in the day. My dad, "Big Johnny" Banks, would have loved this. (Click on all images to enlarge.)

Monday, September 26, 2016

Antietam: A little-known tragedy at David Reel's barn

                                     (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)

      Top above: Interactive panorama of old Reel farm, barn. Above: Google Earth view.

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Thousands of tragedies played out during the Battle of Antietam. One that receives little attention occurred on David Reel's farm on a ridge behind Robert E. Lee's lines. Confederates used Reel's property as a staging area, and as wounded came streaming from the West Woods and elsewhere, the farmer's bank barn became a makeshift field hospital. One scene in particular stood out for a Sharpsburg man named John Philemon Smith:
"While staying at Mr. Reels I saw a number of wounded and dead Confederates brought into the yard; some were having their limbs amputated, others horribly mangled were dying. One man in particular I shall never forget. His entire abdomen had been torn and mangled with a piece of exploded shell. He uttered piercing and heart rendering cries and besought those who stood by for God's sake to kill him and thus end his sufferings. Death came to his relief in a short time and he was hastily buried in a shallow grave dug in the orchard nearby." 
But sometime during the battle, an even greater horror occurred. Federal artillery struck the barn, setting it afire and burning to death some of the wounded. When local boys went through the ruins of the barn, they found lumps of lead ... and bones of human beings in the ashes. It's not known how many Confederate soldiers died in the barn fire.

"The fire of the Federal Batteries on this point was terrific," H.W. Addison, a captain in the 7th South Carolina of Kershaw's Brigade recalled decades after the battle. "I finallly got off some hundred of yards toward the Town," added Addison, "I looked back, and saw that the Barn or building had been fired, and suppose some of our wounded were burned to death."

During a visit to the farm on the 154th anniversary of the battle, the scene was quite different. Chickens clucked in the barn, and cows nervously stirred in a nearby field. I stepped through muck to find the general area where Alexander Gardner set up his camera to record an image of the burned-out shell of the barn on Sept. 21 or 22, 1862.

There wasn't another soul in sight.

      Visit my Civil War Then & Now blog for a larger presentations for desktop.


An image of the Reel barn taken from a similar vantage point as Alexander Gardner's 1862 image.
(CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE.)
Two outer stone walls appear to be all that remains of the war-time barn.
A close-up of an outer stone wall.
Lower level of the barn. Was this hell on Sept. 17, 1862?
A view of the length of the barn. The old Reel farm property is owned by the Civil War Trust.
SOURCES:

-- Buchanan, Jim, Walking the West Woods blog. (Buchanan cites H.W. Addison's 1898 letter to Ezra Carman, who wrote a detailed study of the battle, as source for the description of the shelling of the Reel farm and barn. Accessed Sept. 25, 2016.)

--Nelson, John H, As Grain Falls Before The Reaper, The Federal Hospital Sites And Identified Federal Casualties at Antietam, Privately published CDHagerstown, Md., 2004. (Nelson's terrific work is the source for the quote from John Philemon Smith. He cites the source as the Smith file in the Antietam National Battlefield Visitor's Center Library.)

--Reilly, Oliver T., The Battlefield of Antietam, Hagerstown Bookbinding and Printing Co., Hagerstown, Md., 1906.

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Antietam: Is this house where General Joseph Mansfield died?

2000: During a renovation of the house,  the current owner discovered log construction underneath.
(Images showing log construction courtesy Marvin Diller)
TODAY: The old Daniel Bovey house. The log portion of the house is behind 
the brick and to the right of the front porch.
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WARNING! FOR HISTORY GEEKS ONLY. :)


Three Union generals suffered mortal wounds at Antietam, and for students of the battle, the sites where  two of them died are well known.

Israel Richardson, struck in the chest by an artillery shell fragment near the Sunken Road on the morning of Sept. 17, 1862, was taken to the Philip Pry farm, where a makeshift hospital had been set up in the barn and house. President Lincoln visited him in Pry's house in early October, and the general's wife Fannie and sister traveled from Michigan to help care for him there. But the 46-year-old officer -- "Fighting Dick," he was called because of his prowess on the battlefield -- died of complications from his wound on the second floor on Nov. 3, 1862. The beautiful, brick house is now home for excellent displays by the National Museum of Civil War Medicine.

Wounded in the chest during the IX Corps' afternoon attack, Isaac Rodman died on Sept. 30 in Henry Rohrbach's farm house, near Burnside Bridge. His wife Sally, who had traveled from Rhode Island, was by his side. Before his death, the smell of the 40-year-old brigadier general's wound became so offensive, according to a witness, that the dinner table was moved outside to the porch for meals. Privately owned, the Rohrbach house is inaccessible to the public.

Antietam proved to be the first and last Civil War field command for Joseph Mansfield, who had served far from major action until he was given the reins of the XII Corps only two days before the battle.

General Joseph Mansfield of Middletown, Conn., died 
 of  his Antietam wound on Sept. 18, 1862.
(Middlesex County History Society)
Wounded in the chest by a bullet in the East Woods, Mansfield was carried about a quarter-mile to the rear by soldiers, who used their muskets to form a stretcher. Then he was taken by ambulance another quarter-mile or so to to a log house owned by farmer George Line. On his way there, Mansfield, his wound tightly bandaged to stop the bleeding, repeatedly said, "Oh my God, am I to die thus!" and "Oh my poor family!"

Line's two-story house, which measured about 26 feet by 22 feet, became known as the "White House Hospital," undoubtedly because the logs were painted white. A thousand wounded soldiers, including more than 100 Confederates, received care in his house and in the outbuildings on his farm.

Patrick Henry Flood, the 107th New York surgeon who came to Mansfield's aid after he was shot, feared the general would die before he even arrived at Line's farm. The bullet penetrated about "two inches from the nipple ... passing out at the back, near the shoulder blade," Flood wrote to Mansfield's wife, Louisa, in April 1863. (Read the complete letter on my blog here.) "The lung was much torn," the surgeon added, "and I saw at a glance the wound must prove fatal."

At 8:30 a.m. on Sept. 18, 1862, about 24 hours after Mansfield was shot, the 58-year-old officer from Middletown, Conn., died in a bedroom in Line's small house. Just off the gravel, war-time portion of Smoketown Road, a short distance from the site of Line's house, a small, black-and-white metal marker points to where Mansfield's life ended.

That sign is wrong.

Mansfield didn't die at noon on Sept. 17, and although he indeed died in the house on George Line's farm, the 1862 log house was long ago moved and forgotten.

Until now.

A sign just off Smoketown Road incorrectly notes the date and time of Mansfield's death. The
 log house in which the general died was purchased by Daniel Bovey, who moved it
sometime during the 19th century and reassembled it on his nearby farm.
This house on the site of George Line's log house was probably built after the Civil War. 
This is private property. Do not trespass.
             Google Earth view of the old Line farm. The house shown in the image above 
                        is in the grove of trees to the right of the long, thin outbuilding.

On a Saturday morning in Captain Bender's Tavern on Main Street in Sharpsburg Md., my friend John Rogers and I marveled at tales told by Richard Clem, who has a longtime passion for hunting for Civil War relics in area fields and woods. Clem pulled from a small case pieces of art made from lead by Civil War soldiers -- a VI Corps badge, a cannon tube and even a small, intricately carved walnut. A lifetime Washington County, Md., resident, Clem also has a remarkable knowledge of local history. The 78-year-old retired woodworker still fondly remembers his grandmother recounting visits with Civil War veterans, proving the war isn't as long ago as some of us might think.

An 1877 Washington County atlas shows the location of 
the old Daniel Bovey farm near Hooker Bridge, also
known as Upper Bridge.
During our visit, Clem casually mentioned he knew the location of General Mansfield's death house.
And so we three history geeks hopped into Rogers' car to find out more about a footnote in history.

After a quick stop at the site of the old O.J. Smith farm/Civil War hospital on Mansfield Road near the battlefield, we drove a short distance before we made a right turn up a long, gravel lane. At the top of the hill, we saw a two-story brick house with a modern addition and a friendly dog. (See Google Earth view below.) In the far distance, we could barely make out the old Hooker Bridge (or Upper Bridge), named for the general whose I Corps marched across it on the way to battle. Richard knew the owner of the farm, Marvin Diller, who had an interesting story to tell. During renovation work on the house in 2000, he discovered a log structure beneath the brick exterior. He even had pictures to prove it. Each log was marked with Roman numerals, Diller said, which seemed odd a first.

A little local history lesson made sense of it all.

In 1906, O.T. Reilly authored The Battlefield of Antietam, a 32-page booklet of  photos, stories and remembrances about the battle. Reilly, who claimed he witnessed the battle as a 5-year-old, was the first Antietam guide, serving as a battlefield expert for decades. In his booklet, the longtime area resident wrote this brief passage:
O.T. Reilly 
(Image courtesy Stephen Recker)
The brick house that stands near the Hooker Bridge, on the southwest side, is the old log house that formerly belonged to George Line and was purchased by Mr. Bovey, removed, rebuilt and brick-cased, and was the house in which General Mansfield died. Mr. George Line built a new house on the site of the old one. The road to the left (southwest) of the Hooker Bridge was, during war times, only a private farm road, but now is a county road. The road to the right is the old road running through Bakersville to Williamsport; a portion of the army took this road before the battle to get on the right. All the buildings as you pass along were, for a short while, filled with wounded soldiers until they could be placed in the regular hospitals.
A similar account, perhaps borrowed from Reilly, appeared in the regimental history of the 124th Pennsylvania, which bivouacked on Line's farm the night before the battle. Further evidence that Line's log house was moved comes from this 1996 survey by the Maryland Historical Trust, which noted the brick house on the property today "shows characteristics of later 19th century construction."

Bovey was Daniel R. Bovey, a local minister, farmer and longtime Keedysville, Md., resident. The exact date of his purchase of the house from Line is unknown, although it must have been before 1892, the year Bovey died. When Bovey reassembled the house on the hill near the Hooker Bridge, the Roman numerals on the logs evidently made reassembling it easier. The date the house was brick-cased, apparently a fairly common practice in Washington County, merits more research. Diller's property encompasses what was the old Bovey farm, which is shown in the 1877 Washington County atlas.

The available evidence seems to add up -- the house Mansfield died in has indeed survived the ravages of time.

Whether Mansfield died in his house or on Mars, it doesn't really make a difference to Diller. When I asked him how he felt living where a Civil War general died, he looked me in the eye and smiled.

"We don't even think about it," he said.

A 1906 reunion of the Bovey family at the family farm. An arrow points to Mary Ann Bovey, 
Daniel's wife.  Daniel Bovey died in  1892. (Courtesy Bovey descendant)
CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE.
Another view of the log construction of what once was George Line's house...
... and the same view today. The current owner of the house,  Marvin Diller (blue pants), appears at right.
View from the front of the house. The Hooker Bridge. or Upper Bridge, crosses
Antietam Creek in the middle distance.
A brick on the house designates the year it was renovated.
Google Earth view of the old Daniel Bovey farm. The brick-cased log house
is next to the Creekview Dairy designation.

Have something to add (or correct) in this post? E-mail me here.


SOURCES:

--Find a Grave

--Hagerstown Daily Mail, Feb. 16, 1934. Description of Rodman's offensive wounds comes from Fred Cross, a military archivist at the Massachusetts Archives, who was told the story by area resident Jacob McGraw. McGraw helped Rohrbach clean up his property after the battle.

--Maryland Historical Trust, Inventory of Historic Properties, accessed online Sept. 25, 2016.

--Nelson, John H, As Grain Falls Before The Reaper, The Federal Hospital Sites And Identified Federal Casualties at Antietam, Privately published CDHagerstown, Md., 2004. (Nelson's excellent work is source for description of Line's farm as the "White House Hospital" and dimensions of Line's log house. He cites The Medical Department of the United States Army in the Civil War by Louis Duncan, published early in the 20th century, as source for number of wounded treated at the Line Farm. He cites Dr. Elisha Hunt's "Report on Field Hospitals Indicated on Map of Battlefield of Antietam" for note on Confederate wounded treated at Line farm. Harris was in charge of distribution of supplies by the United States Sanitary Commission.)

--Dr. Patrick Henry Flood letter to Louisa Mansfield, April 28, 1863, Middlesex County Historical Society, Middletown, Conn.

--Reilly, Oliver T., The Battlefield of Antietam, Hagerstown Bookbinding and Printing Co., Hagerstown, Md., 1906

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Antietam: Dawn at 100th Pennsylvania monument


Antietam video: A visit to David R. Miller farmhouse

Below are Then & Nows of the old David R. Miller farmhouse. (Drag the arrow to use the cool slider.) The "Then" image was taken by Alexander Gardner about Sept. 20, 1862, days after the Battle of Antietam. The second Then & Now is a cropped enlargement of the first image. Check out my Civil War Then & Now photo blog here.


Saturday, September 17, 2016

Listen: Wind eerily whips through Antietam's Bloody Cornfield


Check out Bloody Cornfield panorama below.


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A visit to Stephen Grove farm, site of Lincoln photos

The front door of the Stephen Grove farmhouse.
         PANORAMA: Some Confederate wounded were cared for in tents in a side yard.

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In early October 1862, the Union Army Fifth Corps—part of George McClellan's "bodyguard," a perturbed President Lincoln called it—camped in the fields surrounding Stephen Grove's impressive, brick farmhouse. On Oct. 3, the president—who had hoped to prod 'Little Mac" into action after Antietam—met with Michigan troops and posed in front of the house with McClellan and other Union Army brass for photographer Alexander Gardner.

More than two weeks after the battle, hundreds of wounded lay in makeshift hospitals or private homes throughout the area. (See here, here and here.)  At Grove's farm, Confederates cared for their wounded in the house, barn and yard. They buried their dead, including 28th Georgia Lieutenant Benjamin Brantley, in the woods behind Mount Airy, as Grove's house also was known. Union wounded also were cared for on Stephen and Maria Grove's property.

Surgeons used a rough-hewn table inside the house for operations. An area behind the barn, near a stone fence, became a dumping ground for amputated limbs. Surgeons in both armies shared quarters in Grove's attic, where they "ate together ... drank together, and had a high old time."

                         GOOGLE EARTH: View of Grove farm, near Sharpsburg, Md. 

Decades after Antietam, a Sharpsburg man named William Blackford, a boy at the time of the battle, told of scores of wounded Confederates at Grove's farm. He remembered a wounded soldier who lay near the kitchen door. The young North Carolinian talked about his mother and complained only of being cold. "Do you suppose that lady in the house would let me come into the kitchen and sit by the fire?" he said. He died the next day.

In 1934, a day after Blackford recounted that story to Fred Cross, the Massachusetts historian visited the Grove farm. When he told Blackford's account to the current "lady of the house," she invited Cross in and showed him the large kitchen fireplace. Then she took him to the parlor, lifted the rug, and pointed to a large bloodstain on the floor—evidence of a Civil War tragedy.

"I have washed and scrubbed that spot again and again until I had I have thought I got it all out," she told Cross, "but as soon as the floor dried that spot would reappear as plain as ever."

NOTE: The Grove farm is private property. Do not trespass.

               THEN & NOW of President Lincoln at Grove Farm. Larger version here.

The farmhouse was probably built by Philip Grove in 1821. Click here for more information.

The farmhouse, privately owned today,  is badly in need of repair.

Another view of the Stephen P. Grove farmhouse. Private property. Do not trespass.

     PANORAMA: V Corps of Union army camped in Grove's field in early October 1862.
               Pan to the right to see the long lane Lincoln used to reach the farmhouse.

-- Have something to add, correct? E-mail me at jbankstx@comcast.net


SOURCES:


--Nelson, John H, As Grain Falls Before The Reaper, The Federal Hospital Sites And Identified Federal Casualties at Antietam, Privately published CD, Hagerstown, Md., 2004. (Nelson's outstanding work is the source for the description of the Grove farm's use as a hospital. He cites the source of that information, Stephen P. Grove's granddaughter, as the John Philemon Smith file in the Antietam National Battlefield Visitor's Center Library.)
--Hagerstown (Md.) Daily Mail, March 12, 1934.
-

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

10 Antietam stories of courage, perseverance and death

Sunrise at Antietam from Rodman Avenue.
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The stories of many of those who served during the Civil War have been lost to history. Here are 10 stories brought to light on this blog -- stories of courage, perseverance and death at the Battle of Antietam, fought Sept. 17, 1862, in the farm fields and woodlots near the village of Sharpsburg, Md.:

George Marsh
"TRUSTY SOLDIER WITH A SPOTLESS REPUTATION" -- Shortly after sunrise on Sept. 17, 1862, “some curious fools” in the 8th Connecticut climbed atop a knoll on Henry Rohrbach’s farm to sneak a look at their enemy, alerting Rebels on the far side of Antietam Creek. Suddenly, a 12-pound solid shot burst from a cannon and crashed into the regiment’s ranks in a field near Rohrbach's farmhouse, killing Sergeant George Marsh and two other soldiers, wounding four and splattering 19-year-old Lieutenant Marvin Wait with blood and dirt. At least one report speculated that railroad iron fired by the Rebels killed Marsh, but the real cause was the massive concussion of the solid shot that plowed into the ground in front of the prone soldier. Read more.

Philo Pearce
"I  WAS LAYING ON ARMS AND LEGS" -- In a 1925 memoir of his Civil War experiences, Philo Pearce, a private in the 11th Connecticut, wrote vividly about the battle. Of the fighting at Burnside Bridge, Pearce recalled, "I fired so fast that my rifle got hot and I had to pour water on it to cool it." Detailed to aid surgeons, he recalled getting dizzy from the fumes of chloroform used to anesthetize the wounded, staggering outside and briefly falling asleep. When he awoke, he lay upon a pile of amputated arms and legs. Pearce's account, believed to have never been published, also includes details of the mortal wounding of highly regarded 11th Connecticut Captain John Griswold. Read more.

John W. Hilldrup
SET ASIDE TO DIE -- When the regimental surgeon saw John Wesley Hilldrup's grievous bullet wound in his right side, he decided the 22-year-old private in the 30th Virginia was a lost cause and had him put aside to die. Wounded during an attack near Dunker Church, Hilldrup was left in the hands of Union surgeons after the Rebels retreated across the Potomac River two days later. But like this 11th Connecticut soldier who was terribly wounded at Burnside Bridge at Antietam, Hilldrup miraculously survived, was paroled and eventually made his way back home to Spotsylvania County, Va. He later re-joined his regiment. Read more.

Samuel Gould
"SHRANK FROM EVERYTHING ... SELFISH" -- On the morning of the bloodiest day of the Civil War, in a battle in which more than 130 soldiers in his 13th Massachusetts would become casualties, Samuel Shelton Gould was woefully unprepared to fight. It wasn't his fault. A new recruit -- he had just joined the regiment days earlier straight from Harvard, where he was a member of the senior class -- the private wasn't supplied a musket. Assigned to be a stretcher-bearer, he picked up a weapon from another soldier in his regiment who fell wounded in the awful chaos during the Battle of Antietam on Sept. 17, 1862. His war that morning was brief. Shot through the heart, Gould apparently lingered a short time before he died. Read more.

Francis Mobley
"SAVED FROM INSTANT DEATH" -- Francis Mobley, a 26-year-old lieutenant in the 50th Georgia, couldn't believe he initially survived a bullet wound to the chest. "...it was God's mercy that saved me from instant death," he wrote to his wife, Rhoda, in rural Nashville, Ga., "as there is not one in a thousand that could live after receiving such a wound." In the months leading up to Antietam, frequent correspondence from Mobley to his wife of nearly six years revealed a range of his emotions: anxiety, fear, love, agony, hope. When he left Georgia for a camp in North Carolina in the spring of 1862, he begged his 25-year-old wife -- "Rodey" was his nickname for her -- for her understanding. Read more.

Jarvis Blinn
"I AM A DEAD MAN!" -- Pierced through the heart by a bullet, Jarvis E. Blinn knew it was time to meet his maker. "I am a dead man!" the 26-year-old captain in the 14th Connecticut Infantry said moments after he was shot. Barely a month after he enlisted in the Union army, Blinn -- a man who had an "expression of quiet but earnest resolve tinged with a dash of sadness in his air" -- was one of 38 men killed or mortally wounded in the 14th Connecticut. A mechanic from New Britain, Conn.  before the war, Blinn left behind a wife, Alice, and two young children.  A Hartford undertaker named W.W. Roberts brought Blinn and the bodies of seven other soldiers killed at Antietam back to Connecticut in the second week of  October 1862. Read more.

Bela Burr
"FOR GOD'S SAKE A DRINK OF WATER!" -- After the major fighting stopped late in the afternoon, the misery was only beginning for 16th Connecticut wounded who lay in the 40-Acre Cornfield, no-man's land between the Rebel and Yankee armies at Antietam. Collapsing with gunshot wounds just 15 feet from the body of Company I captain John Drake, Private Bela Burr of Farmington, Conn., was unable to leave the field. His brother, Francis, who served with Bela in Company G, was severely wounded in the groin. Wounded six times, 18-year-old Private James Brooks, the son of a farmer from Stafford, Conn., stunningly clinged to life. Private John Loveland, a 23-year-old barber from Hartford, drifted in and out of consciousness as he lay wounded among the cornstalks. His fractured femur protruded two or three inches from his left leg. Read more.

Maria Hall
"FORGET NOT, MY FRIEND" -- After his right leg was torn apart by a cannonball, 12th Massachusetts Corporal Frederick Swarman spent six months at Smoketown Hospital, where he was cared for by a nurse named Maria Hall. On April 24, 1863, three weeks after he was released from the hospital, Hall included this line in a four-page letter to the soldier: "Forget not, my friend, to whose gracious protection and care you owe your life and its blessings." Apparently eager to re-join the army, Swarman re-enlisted again on Aug. 17, 1863, in the Veterans Reserve Corps, but his Antietam wounds wouldn't allow him to serve for long. In January 1864, he was discharged for good. Read more.

G. Chamberlain
A SLOW, AGONIZING DEATH --  After he sliced open George F. Chamberlain’s shot-up right knee on Oct. 17, 1862, Surgeon Edward McDonnell drained more than a pint of pus from the 18-year-old soldier’s wound. His patient was “very nervous,” the surgeon noticed, undoubtedly because the Rebel bullet in his leg still had not been removed a month after the battle. A private in Company G of the 16th Connecticut, Chamberlain at least could count on the comfort of his mother, who traveled from Middletown, Conn., and remained by her son’s side in Maryland hospitals for six months while he recuperated. Read more.

Henry Adams
"GOD, HOW THOSE FELLOWS COULD FIGHT" -- On Sept. 17, 1915, the 53rd anniversary of the Battle of Antietam, The Hartford Daily Times published an ambitious project: short profiles and recollections of more than two dozen veterans who fought on the bloodiest day in American history. Images of many of the old soldiers, their mustaches or beards bathed in gray, accompanied a full-page story that spilled onto another page. "We did not know what to do," two of them remembered, while another recalled being "thrown into confusion" as his comrades were routed. Another veteran lamented, "We were but a lot of green boys." Read more.

Click here for all Battle of Antietam posts on my blog | Antietam interactive panoramas

Saturday, September 10, 2016

Harvard senior's death at Antietam: 'Known but to be loved'

An enlargement of an image of Samuel Shelton Gould, a 13th Massachusetts private. 
(Blogger's collection)

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On the morning of the bloodiest day of the Civil War, in a battle in which more than 130 soldiers in his 13th Massachusetts would become casualties, Samuel Shelton Gould was woefully unprepared to fight.

It wasn't his fault.

A new recruit  -- he had just joined the regiment days earlier straight from Harvard, where he was a member of the senior class -- the private wasn't supplied a musket. Assigned to be a stretcher-bearer, he picked up a weapon from another soldier in his regiment who fell wounded in the awful chaos during the Battle of Antietam on Sept. 17, 1862. His war that morning was brief. Shot through the heart, Gould apparently lingered a short time before he died.

“Samuel S. Gould stood within five feet of me when he was mortally wounded," Warren H. Freeman of Gould's Company A wrote to his father. "He had been in the company but four or five days. He was fresh from Harvard College, and I got quite well acquainted with him; he was a wide-awake, noble fellow, about as tall as I am.

"He has relatives in West Cambridge. We had forty-one men in our company, twenty-one of whom were killed or wounded. My rifle was so hot that I could hardly touch the barrel with my hand, but it worked well; that was the reason I was able to fire so many rounds. Some of the boys only fired thirty times; their rifles got foul, and it took a long time to load. After I had fired forty rounds I went to Gould and got some of his cartridges; he was living, but not able to speak; he died before the battle was over. " (Hat tip: Brad Forbush's excellent 13th Massachusetts web site.)

Only 19, Gould had already led a remarkable life before he was shot near the East Woods, once an unremarkable woodlot but now etched into Civil War history. Well-educated, he came from a prominent Boston-area family. His father, Samuel Sr., was once the headmaster at the Winthrop School in Boston, and young Samuel attended prep school at  Roxbury Latin School, founded in 1645. Its distinguished roll-call of alumni included a founder of Yale, a Revolutionary War general, the founder of Harvard's Medical School and a clergyman credited with the stirring, revolutionary phrase "no taxation without representation."

Gould was only 15 when he enrolled at Harvard in 1858, but he remained there only a year before he sought a new adventure. Eager to prove himself, he became a common sailor -- his parents stunningly gave their approval -- and sailed aboard the Peabody, a ship involved in trade with Australia. After becoming dissatisfied with that experience, he finagled a position aboard the Commonwealth, a vessel destined for Peru.

         PANORAMA: 13th Massachusetts attacked from left  here, near the East Woods.
                                      (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)

East Woods at Antietam, near where Samuel Gould was mortally wounded.
13th Massachusetts attacked toward the camera on the morning of Sept. 17, 1862.
Although he was given more opportunity to learn the intricacies of being a sailor aboard the Commonwealth, the experience was unpleasant at best and repugnant at its worst. "...he found the work harder and the fare worse," an 1866 Harvard biography of Gould noted. A Peru voyage was particularly noteworthy for its violent end.

When the Commonwealth arrived in Callao, the South American country's chief seaport, the headstrong Gould discovered its eventual destination was the Chincha Islands, a dismal cluster of small islands off  Peru's southwest coast. The mission: hauling a load of guano -- excrement of bats and birds that were used in the production of fertilizer and gunpowder. The islands, Gould's biography noted, were "a place to which sailors will never go if it can be avoided, as the work is of the most repulsive kind."

Highly perturbed, Gould met with the Commonwealth captain, seeking a discharge. The captain refused, forcing the young sailor to seek out the American consul in Callao. Eventually, the disagreement was settled with fisticuffs. The captain and his second mate pummeled the teenager, who wisely decided that night to leave the ship "at all hazards."

In Callao, Gould was offered a position on the Rival, a Boston-based ship that sailed to Ireland, making an extremely rough passage around Cape Horn. The 45-day voyage was unpleasant, and the work for Gould was "incessant and severe," but at least he got along with his commanding officers.

After a stay in Cork, Ireland, Gould sailed to New Orleans and finally to Boston, narrowly escaping death when the Rival was battered in a terrible storm off the coast of North Carolina.

Somehow while he sailed the globe for two years, Gould, an excellent student, found time to hit the books. "He carried with him from Boston several Latin and Greek text-books, and other books for reading and study, intending to use them in his spare hours, so as to re-enter College on his return with as little delay as possible," the Harvard biography noted.

"...the force of his example and fire of his words were inspiring."

When he got home, Gould indeed re-enrolled at Harvard, studying diligently. When the Union army's fortunes took a turn for the worse in late spring 1862, he joined a company of Harvard men in the 4th Massachusetts Battalion, but their services were declined. By the summer of 1862, Gould could wait no longer. He enlisted in the 13th Massachusetts on Aug. 14, 1862, but not before speaking at a series of war meetings in Cambridge and Boston at which he strongly urged his fellow students to support the Union cause.

"He addressed himself particularly to the more respectable young men," the Boston Gazette reported 11 days after Gould's death, "who were holding back from enlistment, he feared, on the ground of not wanting to mingle with the common classes, saying, that if such were their motives, 'they were not fit to have their names borne on that immortal roll of honor, the list of killed and wounded.' "

 "... the force of his example and fire of his words" at the war meetings, his Harvard biography noted, "were inspiring."

Days after Antietam, Gould's remains were returned to Cambridge, Mass., where a service was held in his father's house. The president of Harvard excused the entire senior class on the day of his funeral -- and all those classmates "walked in mournful procession behind his remains." Gould was buried in Mount Auburn Cemetery, near Harvard's campus.

A little more than a week after Gould's death, the senior class left no doubt how it felt about its classmate, adopting four resolutions. One of them read:
"...although he had been but a year among us, yet during his short stay we had learned to love and honor him; for he was known but to be loved. Noble and generous-hearted, he shrank from everything that was selfish; and the instances are not few which remain of his disinterested generosity and quiet benevolence -- that his life, though short, was yet long enough to afford us a pattern of virtue, of patriotism, of duty, and of high resolve."
A salt print of Gould from the 1863 Harvard yearbook. (Blogger's collection)

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