Links to Contents

* * *

Editor’s Introduction

Sketches: Our [U.S.] Army Nurses

Documents:
 Dr. Mary E. Walker, Medal of Honor awardee; Annie Etheridge, 5th
Michigan Infantry, Kearney Cross recipient; Harriet Tubman, Lead Union
Scout; Belle Boyd, Confederate spy; Nancy Hart, Gen. Thomas "Stonewall"
Jackson's guide

Selected Memoranda:
Official Records of the Union and
Confederate Armies and Navies

Excerpts:
Selected Articles/Memoirs

A Call to My Countrywomen
by Mary Abigail Dodge

Memoir Chapters:
from, A Signal Success, by Martha J. Coston

Related links

 

OUR CIVIL WAR

by Mary A. Gardner Holland
1895

___________________________________________________________

"From the time the first call for volunteer nurses was issued, my heart burned with patriotic longings to do something for our country and the old flag, and why not? My ancestors on both sides were descendants of the Puritan and Revolutionary stock."

After her husband was wounded Tompkins was finally appointed to Benton Barracks in St. Louis and served till until she requested to return home to take care of her son.

(106-09)

Sinnotte served initially on hospital transports and then as the matron with the 113th Illinois Regiment under Colonel Hoge. She served at Camp Peabody outside Memphis and Holly Springs. She accompanied the regiment on the Tullahoma Raid. General Wright ordered her to join the Union fleet at Vicksburg.

"While with the Vicksburg fleet, one day I noticed the boat I was on was dragging her hawser from the tree where she had been fastened. I reported to the captain. He said, ‘I know it.’ There was no steam on, and we were drifting down the river. The captain said we were going to Vicksburg, and were only a half mile from the line between the two armies. Among the sick was a captain of one of our of the companies of the 113th Illinois Regiment. I immediately went to him and reported the treachery on board of the boat. He could do nothing, as he was too ill to raise his head. He swore  me, and gave me the necessary [Coston] signal. I went on the hurricane deck; no one was there, no one in the pilot house. I gave the signal as he told me. In a moment I saw it answered. Immediately the "Von Pool" came down and towed the boat to the upper end of the fleet, and put a stop to our going to Vicksburg. All of the crew from the captain to the chamber maid were so very angry they would have killed me had they known I was responsible for the change of programme."

On board "Imperial" Sinnotte procured brandy and red pepper for one soldier who was ill with typhoid fever and for whom the doctors said nothing could be done. She applied cloths dipped in the mixture to his feet, palms, and chest and administered water, brandy and broth. He soon began to revive. She retired at midnight and the next morning the doctor asked her what she had done. She replied, "I attended to him as though he were my own, and in our own home." (124-31)

Barrow was appointed a regimental nurse in March 1861 and served in regimental and general hospitals in Pennsylvania, Maryland, West Virginia and Washington until March 1863.

"While in West Virginia the rebels took me for a target, but, praise God, they missed their mark and the bullet whistled above my head. Once they surrounded us, and we could get no supplies for nearly three weeks. At the last we had nothing to eat but hard-tack, and not much of that. At this extremity our men fought their way out; the commander of the place surrendered, and was shot for it, as a traitor. I had a severe time among those rebels while I had the typhoid fever, receiving care only from the good Union doctor. We dared not say we were Union, or we might have been killed. When able to travel I returned to the Regimental Hospital in West Virginia where I remained until I returned to my home."

(134-37)

Weston entered service on September 1, 1861. She was called the mother of the 3rd Iowa, nursing the soldiers in various camps and accompanied the unit to Shiloh.

"I was with the regiment the first day at the battle of Shiloh, and we did up wounds until eleven o’clock. Then went to River Landing and aboard the steamer, on which were four hundred wounded. Here, too, I was the only woman. They had no food, so I first sent for coffee, sugar and hardtack. Tuesday, the boat was ordered to Savannah, where we occupied an unfinished building. After we had been there a few days we received some supplies; then we did very well."

Weston remained nursing Shiloh patients until September when she and other nurses were sent to Jackson, Mississippi; Memphis; and Washington, D. C. where she was officially sworn in on April 20, 1863. In January 1864, she was assigned to the small-pox hospital at Memphis from where she was discharged in October 1866. (162-65)

When her town’s regiment, the 4th Vermont, was formed her husband and brother-in-law enlisted. She and her sister wanted to accompany the regiment. The colonel said nurses had not been called, but wanted them to join. She was sworn in personally by the colonel and the governor of Vermont. In September they reached Federal Hill in Washington and joined other regiments. The 9th Wisconsin had seven ladies and at Camp Advance the 2nd Vermont had five women with the regiment. While at Camp Griffith, they were shelled. The captain wanted she and her sister to fall back, but, "I told him if he thought we would run at the first fire he was greatly mistaken."

They set up a hospital in a house where she and her whole family succumbed to typhoid fever. Her sister died. She went to Washington three times for supplies, at one point leaving with Amanda Farnham. They took a wagon to Germantown then proceeded on foot to a bakery. "When the German woman who had charge saw our uniforms, she invited us into her kitchen to have some dinner, and would not accept any pay." Her husband was discharged disabled and subsequently she left the service in 1862.

(206-13)

Baker’s husband became the chief wound dresser of the 40th Indiana then at Nashville and sent for her. She arrived bringing her child with her. He appointed her to be in charge of a special diet kitchen where she prepared meals for 500 men every day.

While there, "I met two soldier women who donned the blue..One, Frances Hook, alias Harry Miller, served two years and nine months; the other was called Anna She was put under our charge until the military authorities could send her North." .

Baker left the service in February 1865. (228-31)

Dunbar served in a hospital on an island in New York, having been sent for by her husband who had taken sick. She arrived in August 1864 and eventually took over the diet kitchen for the extremely ill patients. The hospital cared for 800 men, and she said, "I think I never worked so hard in my life."

"While I was in the hospital a band of ladies came every week to bring delicacies for me to distribute to the sick ones. At the time the Southerners undertook to burn some of the buildings in the city of New York; two women came to examine our hospital, but thought they could not burn it very readily. Two of the soldiers who heard them talking followed them to the city and had them arrested."

Dunbar returned home in 1865. (238-40)

Stenebaugh was a student at Oberlin College when the war broke out. It had already come close to home as one professor and two students had been taken at Harper’s Ferry and many students had friends and family who had lived through the "Bleeding Kansas" conflict. Her brother enlisted and died from wounds received at Shiloh. About a year later, she received an invitation to go South from her local minister. Her father objected but she countered, "You have given your boys to die for their country, now you can give your girls to nurse them." Between her mother and aunt, they sent six children to war.

She became the matron of the hospital at Milliken’s Bend above Vicksburg.

"Many of the men had chronic diseases, that seemed to baffle the skill of the most competent doctors; yet the soldiers were hopeful now that Union women had come to care for them."

The hospital was under threat by guerrillas who did attack one day. She crossed the river and took refuge in the canebrake for three days. On their first attempt to cross back their boat got caught in the current and was swept back to shore. "Another lady and I jumped overboard and waded to land; the others followed." They safely crossed after dark. Soon after they learned that help was needed at Natchez where they went. "So the labor was divided. Some were to look after Union women and children whose husbands and fathers had gone into or army, been robbed of their all, and left to die; others were to teach the freedmen, others to care for the sick. A confiscated mansion was turned over to us, with the injunction to be no "respecter of persons, but to welcome all who come, ‘In the name of the God of the universe.’"

"In the spring of 1864, Rev. Mr. Brown and lady, he seventy years old and she sixty-five, established a branch of the Christian Commission within the fort. As I did not always have the company of a lady, I thought it wise to call and take Mother Brown with me. She was a mother not only to me, but also to the boys in blue. Her presence made my work much easier. One Sabbath morning in the spring of 1864 everything was quiet. Soldiers and citizens were attending church. The gunboat had dropped down the river a mile, the fort was a mile above the landing, and Camp 70, U. S., colored, still a mile beyond.

Suddenly we heard firing, and the answer. The church was soon emptied, and all was excitement. The Southerners ran to their houses, or places of safety, the Northern people to the bluff overlooking the river. We could see the Confederates on the edge of the timber. About a mile away. They were commanded by a dashing German General, who rode a white horse, and wore a large white plume. They had attempted to cross the river and take our commissary stores in Natchez, under the hill men were gone but some new recruits, and they were ex-slaves. Would they fight, or would they cower at the sight of their old masters? See! See! How they rush forward, hardly waiting for orders! They do better than the guns that fire on the enemy from the boat. In two hours they are driven from the field, leaving their dead and wounded. Three rebel officers were brought to our hospital to be cared for. In a few weeks they were able to be in the sitting-room. . . ."

Soon Stenebaugh’s planned furlough was interrupted by the arrival of two boatloads of wounded at the Marine Hospital. One load was put in a crude building on the bluff of the Mississippi and soon lacked food and clothing.

"I procured a basket full of needed articles, and on my way saw an old colored woman coming out of her shanty. She asked if I was going to see the Union soldiers, and said: "I’s gwine, too. My ole man says they’s starvin’, and I’s takin’ ‘em, some dinner." Then she lifted the snowy cloth, and I saw beefsteak, butter, warm bread, and vegetables. I feared the doctor’s frowns, but many of the men relished just such a dinner. As we walked toward home I said: "Aunty, how can you afford this? Butter is fifty cents a pound, and beefsteak but little less." "Yo’ see, honey, I does washens, and ’de ole man gets jobs, an’d we be free."

Stenebaugh returned home in 1865. (243-53)

Ellis assisted her husband in raising the 1st Missouri Volunteer Cavalry that encamped at St. Louis in August 1861. As the colonel’s wife she accompanied him in her carriage with two servants and her own tent. She nursed at the Battle of Pea Ridge, and helped with surgical operations.

"In camps, on the march, or in the hospital, there was not part of the work of a nurse that I did not do, even to assisting in surgical operations, particularly at the Battle of Pea Ridge, where I stood at the surgeon’s table, not one or two, but many hours, with hot blood steaming into my face, until nature rebelled against such horrible sights and I fainted but as soon as possible I returned. Our regiment was in the cavalry charge at Sugar Creek and many of our men were killed and wounded. I was there with my carriage on the field, and bringing in the first wounded to the house that was made to do duty for a hospital, and continued to care for the needy until April, 1862.

Once in October 1861, one of our officers was left with the rebels and was very sick. It was at the close of a hard day’s march, and his captain came to me to know what could be done. I went on horseback alone, with the determination to find him, and care for him, if possible, and had the pleasure of being the means of saving his life."

The same month, "it was my privilege to carry an important dispatch from General Hunter to General Price. The guerrillas and bushwhackers were so plentiful that the cars on the Northern Missouri Railroad could not run. The telegraph lines were all cut off, and any Union soldier or stranger unlucky enough to be caught beyond the camp was shot immediately. I received the dispatch from General Hunter at 9 a.m., and placed it in the hands of General Price, at Jefferson City, at 5 p.m., the same day, having ridden forty miles."

At the request of the chief of the detective force, she acted as a detective. At last she was taken sick. It was two months before she could stand and was unable to return to service. During her time in camp she received no pay, but spent thousands of dollars on the regiment and for the sick. Her only son returned from the war maimed and died an early death ". . . oh! I want to go to him,---and as I am quite old, it must be soon. I am a physician, but my work is done; I am not able to leave my room." (276-79)

Dunbar and Harriet Colfax, later a famous lighthouse keeper at Michigan City, both enrolled at St. Louis in November 1861. After the battle of Fort Donelson, 300 men came under their care. At the request of Gov. Morton of Indiana, she transferred to Hospital No. 2 in Evansville, where she eventually "commanded" five others. Colfax served on transports on the Mississippi. Dunbar made trips too. "Twice I went down the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers after the sick, and at Sartartia, on the Yazoo, was under fire from the rebels, but our gunboats soon disabled them. We had a small battle, and took a church, which we fitted up for a hospital. We took some on the boat, gathering up three hundred on the return."

She was taught surgery under Dr. Jameson who had served in the Crimea and she studied from his manual. She assisted in many amputations. After the war, she married one of the first patients she saved after five doctors had given up on him. She resigned the service in September 1864.

"I have had men die clutching my dress till it was almost impossible to loosen their hold. I have often taken young boys in my arms when they were so tired they could not rest in their beds, and held them as I would my own little boys. I never went to the ward with a sad face, but always had a smile and a cheery word for all. The doctor used to say he knew when I was ahead of him, for the patients had such pleasant countenances." (294-96)

Gross enrolled with the 2nd and 6th Maine regiments. Her pension petition reads: "Mrs. Nancy M. Atwood-Gross went out with the Sixth Maine Regiment Volunteers as a nurse, and served in that capacity in the field and hospital, caring for our sick and wounded with untiring zeal, and participating in our long and weary marches by day and night, through the dark days of the Rebellion, often standing by the side of some dying comrade who gave his life for the country. . . .Believing that this good woman’s health was impaired by this arduous duty, and untiring energy and zeal to render assistance to her country in the days of bloodshed and hardship, we ask that the Government, now in the zenith of its prosperity, render her a compensation for her services from 1861 to 1863, believing her most deserving. Respectfully, Louis P. Abbott, Late Co. E, 6th Maine Volunteers."

(308-11)

Cox was attached to her husband’s regiment, the 83rd Illinois. She was active at Forts Henry and Donelson and at Clarksville from October 1862 to June 1864. While at Donelson the fort was attacked.

"The Northern women were ordered on board a boat that was to drop down the river. While on the way to the landing the shot and shell were flying all around us. . . . "

(312-13)

Nurse and hospital workers at Gettysburg 
From: Francis T. Miller, The Photographic History of the Civil War, 1911
 

Hamilton had been educated by the Sisters of Charity and after her mother’s death in 1857 decided to enter the Order. When the war broke out she was teaching at the Orphan’s Asylum in Albany. In 1862, she and three other Sisters proceeded to the Satterlee United States Military Hospital in Philadelphia that accommodated 5,000 patients. The first wounded they received were from the Chickahominy Swamps. "Dozens of them were already dead when taken from the ambulances, and many others were just breathing out their brave lives." All through the next three years battles, "our hospital was constantly filled."

Following Gettysburg, "The weather was extremely warm, and the vast number of the wounded made careful attention to their wounds impossible; and upon their arrival at the hospital many wounds were full of vermin, and in many cases gangrene had set in, and the odor was almost unbearable. The demand on our time and labor was so increased that the number of nurses seemed utterly inadequate and the hospital presented a pure picture of the horrors of war."

"We received a large number of wounded after the battle of the Wilderness, among them a young woman not more than 20 years of age. She ranked as lieutenant. She was wounded in the shoulder, and her sex was not discovered until she came to our hospital. It appeared that she had followed her lover to the battle and the boys who brought her in said that no one in the company showed more bravery than she did. She was discharged soon after entering the ward."

Hamilton married a Maine soldier and they raised eight children. "I have taken great pleasure in instructing them in the great principles of patriotism, and it is a standing joke among them that they have "Civil War for breakfast, dinner, and supper." (336-42)

At the outbreak of the war, Miss Edgar and her sister made their way to Jefferson Barracks Hospital near St. Louis where they nursed until the call for help following the Battle for Fort Donelson and she reported to Hospital No. 1 in 1863. A year later Confederate forces attacked the hospital, shot Union soldiers inside and sharpshooters took possession of the building.

"As I was leaving the hospital I met a rebel solider, who brought his gun down with authority, saying, "Halt," and then ordered me to fall into line. On going a little farther, Miss McLeary was ordered to fall in and he marched us into the open field between the rebels and our fort; but the balls flew harmlessly above our heads. Meantime our guns were under the necessity of shelling the hospital in order to rout the rebels, who were killing the men in the fort.

While we were in the field a rebel officer rode up and asked, "Ladies how come you here?" We told him it was the order of one of his men; whereupon he told us to get down on the ground, or we would be killed. We met a rebel soldier and Miss McLeary said, "I thought my time had come." He replied, "You should always be prepared to die." We were so frightened that we could tell nothing about time. Near by us a cow was grazing. A ball struck her; she jumped high in the air, and with a loud bellow retreated in good order. We momently expected the same fate, but in spite of our fears we laughed at our strange condition. This was my first experience in raid or battle. Soon we saw the rebels retreating, loaded with plunder; but they also carried many dead and dying men, among them the lifeless body of General Thompson, covered with blood.

As we were moving off the field a rebel, carrying a flag, said, "Have you many Yankees?" "Yes, sir!" I replied. ‘Reinforcements are coming down the river." This was repeated, and passed along the line, ‘Reinforcements are coming!"

Forrest sent in a flag of truce for a surrender of the fort; meanwhile we escaped as best we could, and made our way to the Ohio River, and crossed into Illinois. We were not allowed to return until the next day; then it was to learn that the hospital, with all its contents, had been burned."

Miss Edgar stayed on at a Paducah hospital until 1864 when she returned home. But three months later in October 1864, she was ordered to report to Jefferson City, Indiana hospital where she met her husband. She was honorably discharged in 1865. (345-49)

In October 1861, Gibson received orders from Washington to report to the Fifth Street Military Hospital at St. Louis; she later was transferred to Jefferson Barracks hospital about twelve miles away. She was discharged while on duty at the Harvey General Hospital in Madison, Wisconsin. Like others she complimented the surgeons she worked with, told of the pitiless sights and endless night watches, and of having to harden oneself. She was proud that in four years of service she "fainted only once", but suffered long-term ill health. Her main adventure seemed to have been:

"I was allowed to go to the battlefield of Shiloh because I could dress wounds; also to Vicksburg during the siege. From Shiloh, our boat took four hundred and thirty-nine men. From Vicksburg, the boat carried less than from Shiloh, but on the return trip we had the experience of being fired upon by the rebels. The gunboat that was guarding us soon scattered them, however, and we were not molested again." (386-89)

Hyatt accompanied her husband’s regiment, the 4th Wisconsin, after he enlisted in Racine, at the request of their colonel. She mostly nursed at the Patterson Park Hospital in Baltimore, although she went with the regiment for a time until they were sent to Ship Island. While returning to Washington, she came to Fairfax Court-House, Virginia, and rode on to the battlefield at Centreville (presumably the Peninsula campaign).

"Here I found Colonel Andrews with ambulances, but many of the drivers had left the teams to go on the field. I tried to carry water to the wounded, but I felt so sick that I was almost about to leave the place, when Colonel Andrews asked me if I could drive a team. When I assured him that I could, he asked me to drive an ambulance to Fairfax Court-House. There were four wounded men, and before I started, another, slightly wounded on the head, begged to go too. So I had him strapped on the seat. The road was smooth, and I told the men if they cold bear it to let me trot the horses forty minutes, I could pass the long train, avoid the dust, and could have them unloaded before the others arrived and took the most comfortable places. They told me to drive on.

I turned out and cracked the whip. The horses started on a good round trot. Every ambulance I passed, the driver would call to me to stop trotting and drive slowly, or I would kill the men. I paid no attention until one called me a "Secesh." Then I told the man who was strapped on the seat to call them something. He did, and shaking his fist, told them to keep still or they would smell powder.

When I had left the train a mile behind I halted and gave the men a drink. I cheered them what I could, telling them I would go to Washington and try to get them furloughs to go home, then drove on. When the men were comfortably settled and fed, I started on the return, and soon met the train. The drivers called to know how I got through, so for fun I told them I hadn’t a live man left. How they did swear, and call me a rebel. I made no reply, for I was in a hurry to get another load. They apologized when they found I was the 4th Wisconsin woman. They said they had talked with the men, who enjoyed the ride, and were very glad I was plucky enough to keep on."

Hyatt returned to Patterson Park hospital where her "boys" were very glad to see her and asked her not to leave again. (446-51)

"Almost before the echoes of the gun which marked the commencement of hostilities between the North and the South had died away, Hon. Henry J. Raymond, of the New York Times, with that keen foresight which marked his career as a newspaperman, had formed the idea of organizing a band of ladies to proceed to Washington in the capacity of nurses, should they be needed. Several meetngs were held at the Cooper Institute or the Woman’s Library, under the auspices of Miss Elizabeth Powell who was selected for this purpose by Mr. Raymond.

At the first meeting, many of those who were confidently expected to go, declined their enthusiasms, which had worked itself to fever heat at the commencement, having died out, and they decided to remain with the "home guard." Six nurses were called as they had been selected, and when my name, Adelaide E. Thompson, was pronounced and I arose (I being very slightly built at that time), a gentleman in the hall inquired what she expected to do with that little creature; to which Miss Powell responded, "That ‘little creature’ is one of the reliables."

The group went by steamer to Baltimore, leaving May 3, 1861, and enduring a severe storm overnight. Since the rails had been torn up during the previous month’s insurrection to prevent federal troops from relieving Washington, from the city they chartered an omnibus to Washington, finally arriving there on their fourth day of travel. They found that the only hospital open at the time was a smallpox one (the First Battle of Bull Run had not yet occurred), and that a nurse was badly needed.

"One pretty little woman, the youngest of the party, whose husband was here in one of the regiments, declared she could not think of such a thing, for if she took the disease and got her face all marked up, her husband would never forgive her. It is but justice to say that she proved herself very efficient in another place. The oldest lady said she could not think of such a thing for she had not felt well since she left New York and she only felt able to read the Bible, and the poor fellows must be so sick that reading would only weary them. The others being of the opinion that "silence is golden," remained silent. To me, anything was better than inaction, and I volunteered my services. . . .after a mournful dinner with my comrades I took my little bundle of clothing, and, accompanied by one of the ladies departed for the hospital. My friend bade me good-bye on the opposite side of the street, and with some trepidation I crossed over and entered the building. I was met by the physician, Dr. Robert I. Thomas, from Iowa. I handed him the letter from the surgeon-general appointing me a nurse in the small-pox hospital; and thus as the first nurse in the District of Columbia, on the 16th day of May, I entered upon my duties."

Spurgeon described deplorable conditions that she mainly bore alone. The doctor would leave after only a few hours work each day, the steward soon followed returning drunk each night, the laundress "pretended to wash" and the cook’s concoctions mainly consisted of making broth out of fat bacon and hot water. So Spurgeon took up the cooking along with her other duties.

"We had plenty of flour, and I proceeded to make up a large batch of bread which was greatly relished by the boys; but as to the meat,---here words fail me. Never before, or since, have I seen such meat. It would have required the power of a Hercules to masticate it. The sugar was of the consistency of mud, and, about the same color, and tasted more like salt than sugar. Butter was not to be thought of, and vegetables of any kind were out of the question."

Spurgeon made a trip to Ne w York to raise supplies from friends and returned with many to find that the hospital had many added patients. "As the doctor did not come, I placed a cot in a corner of his office, where I could obtain two or three hours sleep during the night. I have passed many nights entirely alone in the building, except for the sick men; sometimes three or four bodies lay in the adjoining room, waiting for the morning light to bring the undertaker. The first man died from blood-poisoning, caused by impure vaccine put in his arm before he left Michigan. The weather was warm, and before his comrades arrived to bury him, the body burst. We were obliged to remove all the sick men to a tent in the adjoining lot, while the house was flooded with water."

After the battle of Bull Run wounded flooded in and they established a second hospital. Spurgoen wrote, "It is impossible to describe the horrors of that long, hot summer." There was often no water. They could bury no bodies for a period of time. The laundress died "at her post" from over work. Spurgeon, herself, contracted blood poisoning from which she never fully recovered and had to resign the service. Yet she found a new vocation in which she ultimately served two years:

"I then entered the secret service at the provost marshal’s headquarters. I was sent for one day by the judge advocate, who wished me to interview two parties who had been taken out of the ranks as a regiment was marching up the avenue. I went into a back room, where I saw two boyish-looking persons in uniform.

After a short conversation they owned up to being of the gentler sex; but the deception was perfect. One was the wife of one of the men, and the other was engaged to one. They had traveled hundreds of miles with the regiment, and would probably have gone to the front but for the rascally behavior of one of the lieutenants, who was in the secret. He offered some insult to the young wife, which she resented, and in a spirit of revenge he signaled the provost guard, and had them taken out of the ranks. They both wept bitterly, not only at the disgrace, but at being obliged to return to their homes, leaving their loved ones, perhaps never to meet them again.

With some difficulty clothing was procured, and they were sent home very much wiser women than when they left." (454-65)

Fay served with the 118th NY--her husband being in Company C--and the Christian Commission. Her regiment was on guard duty in Washington until 1863 when sent to the siege in Suffolk.

"Many a poor victim of shot and shell breathed his last under the tender care of this noble, self-sacrificing woman, sometimes just where they had fallen. She knew no fear of the rebel fire when her services were needed to hold up the fainting, battle-scarred hero. . . .During all the marches Mrs. Fay showed the lot of the soldier, marching the same number of miles, carrying her load at all times, and sometimes the load of some sick boy, who would have been compelled to drop out by the wayside, but for friendly aid; and as soon as camp was struck she would go about the preparation of sick diets to tempt the appetite of the sick and wounded. . . . She was on one occasion detailed to go on a scouting expedition to locate the rebel forces. She was very successful, and reported her information to the satisfaction of her captain." (478)

Mrs. Fay served three years and returned home with her husband. (476-80)

Harkin and her mother were attached to the 17th Wisconsin. ". . . we were all very eager to go to the front." They first traveled to the capital at Madison, then to St. Louis ". . . .at every station, women and children vied with each other in seeing who could do the most for the soldier ladies. In Chicago they treated the boys to cake, coffee, and fruit while we nurses were almost smothered with flowers." From Benton Barracks, they went to the field at Shiloh where they set up a hospital.

"There was a great lack of hospital stores, and we were all on short rations. On account of the masked batteries we found it hard to get supplies, and for one week all we nurses had to eat was hard-tack. Not one of us would touch the small store that we had for the sick and we were nearly starved at the end of that time, when a large steamer brought in an abundance of provisions, sent by Wisconsin for her soldiers. Then followed long, weary days and night watches with poor suffering men. There was almost every form of sickness and we had to do all the cooking, and we had to keep the soldiers clean and the hospital in order."

Like other women, Harkin found the Southern backwoods a dangerous place. One day she requested permission to go for a horseback ride, and although warned of danger, she soon found herself and her orderly on a "pleasant road, shaded with beautiful trees." "My horse was fresh and eager to go, and we dashed on. At last we saw soldiers; but they were our own men, and of course I was not afraid of them. As I flew past, as fast as my horse could go, I thought I heard voices calling but paid no attention and rode on for as much as two hours; when I came to a large ravine, that cut the road in two. I stopped, looked down into the dark gully, then raised my eyes to the opposite hill, where I saw a rude farm-house, and a white cow grazing in the field. I thought I would cross the gully and see if I could buy a drink of milk. I had gone about half way down the hill, when at the bottom I saw five men in the well-known "butternut" uniform. My breath almost left my body as the foremost said, "Halt! You are my prisoner." He walked toward me, and in another minute would have had my horse by the bridle. "I will die first," was my thought as I jerked the rein, and my dear old horse turned with a jump. "Shoot the spy!" they shouted. I was in truth flying for dear life. They fired three shots after me, but I must have gone like the wind, for I heard no more from them. When I reached the picket lines the little orderly was almost sure I was "gobbled," as they called being taken prisoner. The officer gave me a scolding, and told me how three of our men were killed there a short time before. I found my father and mother very anxious about me, and I myself was almost sick with fright."

Harkin finally took ill and resigned the service. Her mother remained serving in Corinth and Memphis hospitals. (486-494)

"I served in our great Civil War from June 9, 1861 to March 2, 1865. I did the work of one, and tried to do it well. I was in nineteen hard-fought battles, in the department of the Ohio, Tennessee, and Cumberland armies. Fort Donelson, February 15th and 16th was the first battle to which I was eye-witness; Pittsburg Landing, April 6th and 7th, the second; Iuka, September 20th, the third; and Corinth, October 3d and 4th, the fourth.

In January, 1863, we went from Corinth to Memphis, and from January to October, 1853, passed 63,800 men through our hospitals.

During the siege of Vicksburg I made several trips from that city with wounded soldiers to the Memphis hospitals.

On the 27th of October I received orders to report at Chattanooga, and arrived I in time to see the battle of Lookout Mountain, that famous "battle above the clouds." I watched the dreadful combat until the clouds hid all from view. In fancy I can hear General Hooker’s artillery now.

Our next fearful struggle was Missionary Ridge. This point was strongly fortified, the rifle-pits were closely arranged, and with the artillery belching fourth fire and death, it seemed impossible for our men to take it. The night before the battle was bright moonlight, and all night long the troops marched to their positions. In the morning they presented a solid wall of blue. Never were men more hopeful and yet it looked so terrible, so appalling--that dangerous route up the rough and jagged mountain side. I was in the second story of the hotel. My duty was to receive the gifts from the soldiers to their friends if, to use their own expression, he "bit the dust." These gifts consisted of farewell letters, watches, money, and any little things the wanted sent "home" if they never returned.

The order to march was given between eleven and twelve o’clock. Amid the din and roar of shot and shell, and the commands of the officers, it was almost impossible to distinguish any particular sound; yet General Osterhaus’s thrilling commands could be heard with startling distinctions. It was his artillery that sent the first shell through General Bragg’s headquarters.

The men marched up that stony precipice so rapidly that even the officers were amazed. General Grant asked, "Who gave that command?" General Thomas replied, "They gave it themselves." In one short hour that desperate battle was fought and won; General Bragg was in full retreat and his army closely pursued. Was not the "God of Battle" there?

The Stars and Stripes floated from one end of Missionary Ridge to the other. Seventeen hundred men were killed and wounded in the 13th Army Corps alone. Some wounded were kept at the foot of Missionary Ridge five weeks and then they were removed to Chattanooga in time for the sudden storm on record; but none of our patients froze to death.

The first of March found us in Huntsville, Alabama, getting read for the spring campaign. Resaca, early in May was our first battle,--and a bloody and hard-fought one it was, too. Now comes a constant roar of artillery for one hundred days until Atlanta was taken, and many were the battles in the campaign. Kennisaw Mountain was where we dislodged Gen. Joseph Johnston. Then came Mt. Hope, Big Shantee, and on, and on, until the fall of Atlanta. Here we had the worst hospitals of the war. Kingston, then Altoona Pass, then on to Marietta, where, while the shouting of both blue and gray went on in Sherman’s army we had at one time twenty thousand wounded soldiers. The exhaustion and suffering of that Georgia campaign can never be told!

Here is where I saw General Kilpatrick and his seven thousand cavalrymen swinging around Atlanta, burning and destroying everything they could lay hands on, swimming the Black Warrior with the enemy close behind them. This stream takes its name from the Creek Indians, who, closely pursued, preferred death to surrender; and plunging into the turbulent waters were drowned; hence the name, "Black Warrior." But General Kilpatrick’s work was not in vain. Atlanta surrendered, and we, army nurses, treated the general and his worn-out troops to bread and butter and coffee.

The surrender of Atlanta marked the close of my work in the Georgia campaign.

_________________________________________________________________

Ed.: The work of Mother Bickerdyke is so widely and well known, that the above article from her pen cannot fail to be greatly appreciated, but realizing that one by one our comrades are crossing the river, and that to the rising generation the Civil War is already like a half-forgotten story, aside from the lessons of patriotism it teaches, we have gathered a few of the details of this most remarkable woman’s work, and re-tell them, hoping that a measure of her spirit of whole souled devotion to country and to suffering humanity may find lodgement in the heart of every reader.

After the surrender of Sumter her heart, which had been burdened with a mother’s solicitude for the boys she had seen march away, could no longer endure the dreadful suspense, and the still more dreadful confirmation of her fears that daily met her eyes as she glanced over the crowded columns of the papers. Her clear judgment did not admit of her failing for she realized the horrible sights and the hardships she would have to undergo at the front; but by the force of her indomitable will, the lesser evil would be lost in the greater, and she would unfalteringly tread the path of duty, outwardly unmoved by environments that must have unnerved a less-determined person.

Many stories have been told of the half-frenzied search for friends and relatives missing the slain, when tortured love lent an almost superhuman fearlessness that enabled the seekers to endure the strain of their ghastly surroundings; but perhaps no single incident in the life of Mrs. Bickerdyke portrays her large-heartedness, in fact the motherly care that she felt for the wounded soldiers, than the following: The victory had been gained at Fort Donelson, and the glad news carried with it great rejoicing; meanwhile the soldiers who had won that victory were suffering more than tongue can related. Their clothes often froze to their bodies, and as there were no accommodations for so many, hundreds perished wholly without care. Mrs. Bickerdyke had witnessed her first battle with a courage equal to every demand. That fearful day was at last ended, and darkness settled over the deserted field, where the dead still lay awaiting burial.

The night grew darker and darker. The strange, weird silence, after such a day, proclaimed an indescribable feeling of awe. At midnight an officer noticed a light moving up and down among the dead, and dispatched someone to see what it meant. The man soon returned and told him that it was Mrs. Bickerdyke, who, with her lantern, was examining the bodies to make sure that no living man should be left alone amid such surroundings. She did not seem to realize that she was doing anything remarkable, and turning from the messenger, continued her search over that awful field, actuated simply by her love for humanity.

Many wounded of the rebel army, who had been deserted, were the recipients of her care. As a mangled arm was being dressed of one, he felt instinctively the deep sympathy for his suffering and said, "That arm would not have done such service, if I had known what sort of people I was fighting."

This work was varied, now on the field of battle; now on board a boat, caring for a load of soldiers in transit; now in the hospital; and now engaged in more general sanitary duties. Thus many phases of a soldier’s life came under her observation.

Often young boys found their way into the ranks, and it as infinitely pathetic to realize their position, and picture in imagination how they had been loved and cherished at home. Ah, how may of them today fill heroes’ graves! One mentioned by Mrs. Bickerdyke was a boy about nineteen years of age, but large and manly for his years. During his infancy his mother died, leaving him to the almost idolizing care of father, brothers, and sisters. He entered the army a happy, half-willful boy, looking upon his position in the hopeful, confident manner of youth. Slowly, but surely, he was transformed into the grave patriot, ready to give his life wherever it should be needed most; no longer looking forward to battle, but anticipating his first active service with an every-increasing self-surrender. He was at Pittsburgh Landing, in General Prentice’s division, and when they were surprised, about sunrise, he was among the first ones ready to repulse the attack. Soon he was wounded, and while being carried from the field another ball struck him; but he had time to say, "Tell my friends that I died on the field."

While the battle was raging, Mrs. Bickerdyke was attending an officer who had been wounded at Donelson, and could live only a short time. Ah, how it thrilled her heart and awakened her deepest admiration to see how he longed to be with his regiment, when he had already given so much! And when it seemed that our men must be defeated, he cried, "It can’t be! Those brave troops will never surrender! They will fight to the last, and conquer! Oh, that I were with them! He was with many of them soon, beyond the tumult of war.

Mrs. Bickerdyke did not see all of the horrors of that field, as her heart and hands were full in caring for the wounded. But in connection with this battle, she said: "The saddest thing in my experience was receiving their last messages, and little treasures to be sent home to their families when death came to relieve them from pain. Such cries as "Who will become of my children?’ were hardest of all to bear." Yet few realized how deeply she felt for those around her, for she was habitually strong and cheerful, inspiring others with the same feeling.

One night she was making her usual round of the ward. The lights were turned down, and many of the soldiers were sleeping, while here and there a restless sufferer counted the lagging seconds, and longed for the morning. Passing along, she ministered to each as occasion demanded, until one asked "Are you not tired, Mother Bickderdyke?" Not for a moment did she think of claiming sympathy, but replied in her usual brisk way; "What if I am? That is nothing. I am well and strong, and all I want is to see you so, too".

In a few moments more she was at her place by the table, to assist the surgeon in an amputation then received the patient into her own care; and as she gave him a restorative he whispered, "Take a message from me to my poor family; I shall surely die." How her heart ached for him in his weakness and suffering. But there was no change in her calm cheerful manner as she replied, "Now do not talk. You are going to take all your messages to them yourself, for I know you have a splendid chance to get well."

Her only purpose during those trying seasons was beautifully expressed in her own simple words, "I keep doing something all the time to make the men better, and help them to get well," and her name was spoken with gratitude by numberless soldiers.

In September a battle was fought at Iuka. Here Mother Bickerdyke again walked over a blood-stained field to save many a life fast ebbing away for want of immediate aid. She deftly stopped the flow of blood from wounds that must otherwise have proved fatal. The number of wounded swelled to nearly fifteen thousand. The accommodations were crowded, and the wounded were sent to Corinth as fast as their condition would permit. Mrs. Bickerdyke not only went with them, to alleviate suffering on the painful journey, but did much to prevent waste. Owing to limited time and means of transportation, solid clothing, and things that were especially needed to fit the place to which they were going were to be left behind. But prudent Mother Bickerdyke had all articles packed closely and when she saw that they were to be left exclaimed in surprise, "Do not suppose that we are going to throw away those things that the daughters and wives of our soldiers have worked so hard to give us? I will prove that they can be saved, and the clothes washed. Just take them along; and her order was obeyed."

A mother kneeling by the cot of her son, who was scarcely seventeen years old, said: "It is no wonder that you are called ‘Mother’ her, for you treat all these men with such kindness and patience. I owe to you the preservation of my darling’s life. Oh, it would have broken my heart had I found him dead!" With that thought she burst into a passion of sobs, and buried her face in the pillow. He smoothed her silver hair with one hand (he had lost the other), and tried to comfort her. Such scenes aroused feelings in the heart of Mrs. Bickerdyke for which she could find no expression save in work.

The large hospitals in Memphis had not been prepared in vain, and she was often seen among the patients in the different wards, besides performing her duties as matron of the Gayoso [Hospital].

She was always planning for more and better food for her sick boys. Fresh milk and eggs were supplied in scant quantities, and were very poor at that. She declared that it was a nuisance to pay forty cents a quart for chalk and water. She wanted something nourishing. Her plan was at first deemed impracticable, but after consideration it was conceded that her judgment was not at fault. The sanction of her plan was gained from proper authorities, and just as Spring was preparing to welcome Summer, she started upon her famous "cow and hen mission." Her object was to obtain one hundred cows and one thousand hens, to be cared for on an island in the Mississippi, near Memphis. The beginning of this mission was distinguished by more than one hundred crippled soldiers accompanying her as far as St. Louis. There was not one of the poor maimed fellows who did not bless her when she saw them all safely in a hospital there.

As soon as she made her plans known in Jacksonville, Ill., a wealthy farmer, aided by a few of his neighbors, gave her the hundred cows; and as she proceeded, chickens were cackling all about her. She procured the desired one thousand, and her arrival at Milwaukee was heralded by the lowing of cows and the sprightly song of hens.

She visited Chicago, where she was entertained by Mary A. Livermore, of the Christian Commission. It was a Sabbath afternoon, and the family were preparing to attend the marriage of a friend; and although Mrs. Bickerdyke had taken no rest since her arrival, she preferred to join them rather than to retire. The ceremony was a quiet one, performed in the bride’s home. A young officer in his bright uniform was the bridegroom; and when he introduced the white-robed girl as his wife to Mrs. Bickerdyke, she was surprised by his telling her they had previously met at Fort Donelson. Then he reminded her of an officer there who had been wounded by a minnie-ball, appealing in vain to a surgeon to save his leg. She induced the surgeon to wait until morning, when it as found that he could recover without losing the limb. "I never can express my gratitude to you" he concluded. "You have been to me a mother indeed."

She had accompanied the soldiers to Farmington, whence they removed to Corinth, to secure better accommodations. Here she established a Diet Kitchen and a laundry. The great bundles of soiled and blood-stained clothing were sent to the woods, where colored men washed them, superintended by Mrs. Bickerdyke. She rode a white horse, the distance being nearly two miles from camp.

One of her best-known acts is an "interference" that gained for her the title of "General." It was at the time when the Confederates attempted to re-capture Corinth, and attacked the defense Oct. 3, 1862. The hospital work was so well organized that it could be done very quickly, and Mrs. Bickerdyke found some time to study the progress of the battle. The whole action was rapid and concerted. The Board of Trade Regiment, twelve hundred strong had marched twenty-four miles to enter the conflict, and only four hundred returned. The steady roar of artillery drowned all other sounds. Toward evening she saw a brigade hurrying forward, and learned that they had been marching sine noon, and were about to join in the struggle. The officer in command was requested to let them rest a few moments, but refused. The men were passing the hospital when a strong voice cried, "Halt!" Instinctively they obeyed, and attendants began to distribute soup and coffee; meanwhile their canteens were filled, and each received a loaf of bread. "Forward, march!" came the order in a very few minutes, that the time lost being more than compensated by the renewed courage of the men, who had no other chance to rest until midnight. Mrs. Bickerdyke had given the order to halt herself, when she found that no one else would do it, and her "interference" was deeply appreciated; for in spite of her efforts, many died from hunger and thirst during that battle.

She experienced some difficulty in getting transportation for her stores to Resaca, but finally arrived while the hospital tents were being pitched. All round lay the wounded who, one by one, were being carried to the operating tables, by the sides of which were heaped those ghastly piles of human flesh. Turning from such fearful sights she began to work among the men, binding up a wound here, straightening a limb there, and again, bending to bathe a quivering, agonized face.

Thus day after day the fearful work went on, and day after day, Mother Bickerdyke passed in and out among the soldiers, ministering to needs of both mind and body, as only a strong, loving woman could do. She had given herself unreservedly to the work, and to such a nature as hers retreat would be impossible. Sickness, sorrow and danger of every kind must necessarily come, but she would meet them as the soldiers did;--as obstacles that must be overcome; for the path of duty lay clearly marked out before her and she could not turn aside. For herself she would accept nothing; if her boys could be comfortably cared for she was happy. She was a capital forager, and for the sake for the sick soldier she would brave any danger. She was once present at the Chamber of Commerce in Milwaukee, with the Ladies’s Aid Society of the Northwestern Sanitary Commission. The President of the Chamber, in his blandest tones, informed the ladies that the Chamber had considered their request, but that they had expended so much in fitting out a regiment that they must be excused from making further contributions. Mrs. Bickerdyke asked the privilege of saying a few words, and for a half hour she held them enchained. She described in plain, simple language the life of a soldier,--his privations and sufferings, the patriotism which animated him to suffer and to dare without murmuring. She contrasted this with the love of gain, and such an excuse for making no further donations. "You rich men are living at your ease here in Milwaukee, dressed in your broadcloth, knowing so little of the sufferings of these soldiers writhing in pain, cold, hungry, many of them finally meeting death,--and all that you and your little ones, your wealth and your homes, many be saved to a future republic. Shame on you, cowards! The Chamber of Commerce was not prepared to be thus rebuked. They reconsidered their action and made an appropriation.

Though Mrs. Bickerdyke was always neat and cleanly in her dress, she was indifferent to its attractions; and amid the flying sparks from open fires her calico dress would take fire, and was often full of little holes. Some one asked if she were not afraid of being burned. "Oh, she said, "my boys put me out!" With her clothing in this condition she visited Chicago late in the summer of 1863. The ladies replenished her wardrobe, and soon after sent her a box of nice clothing for her own use. Some of the articles were richly trimmed, among them two nightgowns. She traded off most of the articles with the rebel women of the place for eggs, butter, and other good things for her sick soldiers. She was soon to go to Cairo, and she thought the nightgowns would sell for more there; but on her way, in one of the towns on the Mobile and Ohio Railroad, she found two soldiers wh had been discharged from the hospitals before their wounds were healed. The exertion of travel had opened them afresh. They were in an old shanty, bleeding, hungry, penniless. Mrs. Bickerdyke took them at once in hand, washed their wounds, stopped the flow of blood, tore off the bottoms of the nightgowns and used them for bandages. Then as the men had no shirts she dressed them in the fine nightgowns, ruffles, lace, and all. They demurred a little, but she told them if any one spoke about it, to say they had been in Seceshville.

Some soldiers in fresh uniforms waited upon her, one sunny morning, and tendered her a review. She smilingly consented, donned her sun-bonnet, and permitted herself to be stationed in a rude, elevated position. Then the fine old cows who had supplied them with milk filed past her. Each one had been smoothly curried, their horns had been polished, and their hoofs blackened. The favorites were decked out with little flags, and a lively march was played as the queer procession filed past. Many of these cows had marched a long distance with the army They were a treasure to Mrs. Bickerdyke, as she could make custards and other delicacies for her sick soldiers. This boyish prank, "The Cows Review" was a pleasant incident which she greatly enjoyed.

When the army was ordered to Washington for the grand review, and the soldiers realized that they were soon to meet the loved ones at home, they became as light-hearted as boys, and the march from Alexandria was a joyous one. Mrs. Bickerdyke accompanied them, riding her glossy horse. She wore a simple calico dress and a large sunbonnet. She crossed the Long Bridge in advance of the 15th Army Corps, and was met by Dorothy Dix and others, who came to welcome her to the capital. This was a triumph such as few women have ever achieved, and during the weeks following she was everywhere treated with great respect and consideration.

The calico dress and sunbonnet were sold for one hundred dollars and preserved as relics of the rebellion. This money she spent at once, for "the boys needed so many things."

At last the great war was over. Peace was declared, and the Nation awoke to the fact that it had on its hands a mighty army,--victorious, it is true, but with many of the men destitute, and bearing the marks of the four years’ struggle. In a short time that army disappeared in a manner that has been the wonder of every nation.

But where had they gone, and under what circumstances? Those soldiers could never be anything but "her boys" to Mother Bickerdyke, and she could not desert them now, when maimed, and broken in health and fortune, they must go back to the old homes, or wander about in search of new ones. From that time until the present day she had been constantly interested for their welfare. In the old New England homestead, in the sunny valleys of California or on Western prairies, wherever the soldiers have made their homes, the name of Mother Bickerdyke will be spoken with reverential love, until her boys are mustered out, and their tongues are silent in death.

She is now eighty-two years old, and very smart for one of that age. She keeps a secretary to conduct her large correspondence, coming from soldiers in all parts of the country.

Her son, Prof. J. B. Bickerdyke, lives in Russell, Kansas, and with him his honored mother finds a pleasant retreat in which to pass the sunset of her long and useful life.

(516-33)

Documents

WALKER, Miss Mary E., physician, army surgeon, and dress-reformer, was born in Oswego, N. Y. She belongs to a family of marked mental traits, and was, as a child, distinguished for her strength of mind and her decision of character. She received a miscellaneous education and grew up an independent young woman. She attended medical college in Syracuse, N. Y., and New York City. She always had an inclination to be useful in the world. When the Civil War broke out, she left her practice, went to the front and served the Union army in a way that, in any other country, would have caused her to be recognized as a heroine of the nation. Of all the women who participated in the scenes of the war, Dr. Walker was certainly among the most conspicuous for bravery and for self-forgetfulness. She often spent her own money. She often went where shot and shell were flying to aid the wounded soldiers. While engaged on the battlefields of the South, she continued to wear the American reform costumes, as she had done many years previous to the war, but eventually dressed in full male attire, discarding all the uncomfortable articles of female apparel. Her bravery and services in the field were rewarded by a medal of honor, and she draws a pension from the government of only $8.50 a month, a half of pension of her rank, in spite of the fact that she really deserves the higher recognition of the government and the public for her patriotic and self-sacrificing services in the army. Her career has been an eventful one, and she has been a pioneer woman in many fields. She is the only woman in the world who was an assistant army surgeon. She was the first woman officer ever exchanged as a prisoner of war for a man of her rank. She is the only woman who has received the Medal of Honor from Congress and a testimonial from the President of the United States. She has been prominent and active in the woman suffrage and other reform movements. She was among the first women who attempted to vote and did vote, who went to Congress in behalf of woman suffrage, and who made franchise speeches in Washington, D. C. She is the author of a constitutional argument on the rights of women to vote. In Washington, D. C. when the patent office was converted into a hospital, she served as assistant surgeon and worked without pay. In 1864 she was in the service as a regimental A. A. surgeon. Many stories are told by generals, other officers and soldiers of her bravery under fire. In 1866 and 1867 she was in Europe, and directed and influenced ten thousand women to vote in the fall of 1869. Because of her determination to wear male attire, Dr. Walker has been made the subject of abuse and ridicule by persons of narrow minds. The fact that she persists in wearing the attire blinds the thoughtless to her great achievements and to her right to justice from our government. No whisper against her character as a woman and a professional has ever been heard. During the past three years, she has suffered severely from an injury caused by slipping and falling which has left her lame for the remainder of her life. She is now living on the old homestead in Oswego county, N. Y.

The petitioner, whom it is proposed to pension in the accompanying bill, has distinguished herself in connection with the military service in a way that, in the opinion of the committee, entitles her to the consideration that she asks at the hands of Congress. During the entire war she was attached to and remained with the Second, Third, and Fifth Regiments of Michigan Volunteer Infantry, returning home with the Fifth Michigan Veterans, which was the Third and Fifth consolidated, in July, 1863. During all her protracted service she performed the duty of field and hospital nurse.

She was presented with an official list of the battles at which she was present in her humane capacity, from June 1861, to October, 1864, numbering twenty-eight in all, and including Bull Run, Yorktown, Fair Oaks, Malvern Hill, before Richmond, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, the Wilderness, before Petersburg, Spottsylvania, and others. She was present on horseback and on foot, in the day-time and in the night-time. She was once wounded, and her clothing was often torn with bullets. Her value consisted in her devotion, in her endurance, in her skill in dressing wounds, in her kind care of suffering soldiers, which she did not withhold even from those who fought on the "other" side.

All this is attested to by hundreds of soldiers belonging to the regiments to which she was attached, whose names accompany the petitions to Congress, earnestly asking the passage of a special act for her relief; by numerous commissioned officers and surgeons, by distinguished commanders.

In his General Order No. 18, after congratulating the division on its recent successes, General Birney announced the name of this lady as one selected as a recipient of the "Kearney Cross", the division decoration; and it was presented in the presence of the whole division.

In a letter addressed to the Secretary of the Treasury General Hancock said:

Another letter from General Hancock, written in 1867, says:

I knew Mrs. Anna Ethridge when in or with the Army; she was with a regiment in my corps and came occasionally under my eye, and more frequently under my notice. Although I thought she had better have been at home, yet it was universally acknowledged that her services were valuable and disinterested; especially valuable, because it was well understood that she was respected by both officers and men, from the highest in rank to the lowest. She is entitled to all renumeration which precedents may have established as suitable in similar circumstances

WINFIELD S. HANCOCK
Major-General, U. S. A.

The committee have in possession a large supply of similar testimony, but it is believed her claim is sufficiently established by what is here produced. The committee will only add that she is a lady of irreproachable reputation, that she has received no pecuniary compensation for the services described, and that she is in present need.

The bill is herewith reported to the Senate with a recommendation that it do pass.

HARRIET TUBMAN is, perhaps, the most written about American woman.
She is most famous as an intrepid "conductor" on the Underground Railroad, a trail of routes and safehouses through which fugitive slaves escaped north and to Canada.

After the Civil War broke out, in response to a call for Northern aid organizations, Tubman left her home in Auburn, New York in 1862, to go to South Carolina where Union forces occupied coastal areas.  There under Col. James Montgomery, she commanded nine scouts and river pilots who gathered information on Confederate force strength and positions and led river incursions. Tubman ventured out on these expeditions with her haversack, musket, and canteen, sometimes clad in "bloomers." At the end of the war, she worked in hospitals in Virginia. [Sources: C. Kay Larson, "Bonny Yank and Ginny Reb," MINERVA: Quarterly Report on Women and the Military, Vol. VIII, no. 1 (Spring 1990): 33-48; Earl Conrad, Harriet Tubman (Washington, D. C.: The Associated Publishers, Inc., 1943); for books for youth, see website of the Women's History Project in California]
 

Photo: Harriet Tubman, NARA #559120

From: Francis T. Miller, The Photographic History of the Civil War, 1911, Vol. 7

LEXINGTON, MO., August 27, 1863

[August] 25, divided the command (except Colonel Neill’s force, who left the 24th) into small parties, and scoured the country from the head of Texas Prairie north of Bul, and some 10 miles south of the prairie, sending Captain Jackson as far south as Kingsville, when I learned the party passed the day before. I have not heard from him yet, although he was to report to me at Hopewell. We had a number of skirmishes this day, killing 3 (no doubt wounding several) and capturing a number of horses, and some prisoners, who were unarmed, and a female, by the name of Miss Hutchins, of this place, who was standing picket while 2 bushwhackers were eating their dinner, and since their capture by giving them timely notice of the approach of troops. Our casualties to-day were 1 killed and 1 wounded, viz.: Killed, Robert C. Key, private Company K, and wounded, Joshua Stevens, Company I. . . . . (587-88)

HDQRS. SECOND DIVISION, FOURTEENTH ARMY CORPS
Near Bailey’s Cross-Roads, September 14, 1863- 8 p.m.

Lieut. Col. GEORGE E. FLYNT,
      Chief of Staff, 14th Army Corps

COLONEL: I have the honor to report the following information. The wife of Mr. Roberts passed over the mountain to the point where the rebel signal station is located. She saw a considerable force of the enemy in the neighborhood of Dug Gap. Could make no estimate of their numbers. Saw several small trains passing to and from La Fayette. She made a second visit later in the day, and observed quite a cloud of dust between Catlett’s Gap and La Fayette, as though a long train or column of troops were moving on that road. Was not confident in which direction. A great deal of smoke issued from the woods below her in the vicinity of Dug Gap.

To-day, a few moments before the arrival of Colonel Harrison’s cavalry, 4 well-armed rebels were at the house of Mrs. Roberts, and came from the direction of Blue Bird. My scout, Starr, reports having seen a Negro girl near Lee’s Mill, who came last night from La Fayette. She says she "seen heaps of rebels between the gap and La Fayette;" that there was a very large army there. My scout, Warren, has just returned from the mountain. He reports small scouting parties of the enemy on the mountains near by. Also a considerable smoke, as though from an encampment near Dug Gap; also a number of men moving about.

I have the honor to remain, yours, very truly,

JAS. S. NEGLEY
Major-General (624-25)

HDQRS. NINETY-SECOND ILLINOIS VOLUNTEERS
Harrison’s Landing, Tenn., September 26, 1863- 4 p.m.

CAPTAIN AND ASSISTANT ADJUTANT-GENERAL,
       General Crook’s Division:

CAPTAIN: Mrs. Puckett, a loyal lady of Harrison, has just come down to the river bank, and reports a strong force of the enemy moving north on the other side of the river. The rebel soldiers said there were 40,000 of them going to Eldridge’s Ford, 12 miles above here, to cross.

Respectfully,

S. D. ATKINS
       Colonel, Ninety-Second Illinois Volunteers

HDQRS. SECOND CAVALRY DIVISION
September 26, 1863- 6 p.m.

Colonel ATKINS,
      Commanding, Ninety-Second Illinois Volunteers

COLONEL: Your dispatch received. I have gone into camp on Soddy, 3 miles from the ford (Edridge’s), and ready to re-enforce the force at the ford should it be attacked. In case no enemy appears to-night or in the morning, I will move on and leave instructions for the officer at the ford, with two companies and two pieces of artillery, to intrench himself.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

GEORGE CROOK
      Brigadier-General, Commanding

(881)

February 4, 1864,

GENERAL: Well, my boy, where did you get that letter from?

Miss Van Lew gave it to me. I stayed for a week with Miss Van Lew before I came away. Miss Lizzie said she wanted to send you a letter, and I said I would bring it. Miss Lizzie said you would take care of me. I left there last Saturday night. Miss Lizzie told me what to tell you.

GENERAL: Well, what did she tell you to say? You need have no fear here.

She told me to tell you of the situation of the army. Mr. Palmer got all the information he could for you. Lee has got about 25,000 men; there are about 15,000 men at Petersburg. The City Battalion and two companies (Maryland companies) are at Richmond, and about 1,800 or 2,000 at Chaffin’s and Drewry’s Bluffs. Mr. Palmer said there were two brigades gone to North Carolina about a week before I left. He found out, though just before I came away, that one of them had stopped at Petersburg. The two brigades that went were Hoke’s and Kempers.’ He thought that what available force could be got into Richmond in four or five days was from 25,000 to 30,000 men. He said to say to you that Richmond could be taken easier now than at any other time since the war began. He thought that it would take about 1,000 cavalry and 30,000 infantry.

GENERAL: Miss Van Lew says something in her letter about Quaker.

There is a man there goes by the name of Quaker. That is not his name, but he says he does not wish any one to know his name as he does not wish to be known by any other name. They are sending off the Federal prisoners to Georgia. Mr. Palmer said he had under stood that Lee was there in Richmond to secret session there; but he said that was not reliable. Lee has about 25,000 available men. Miss Van Lew said not to undervalue Lee’s force. Quaker said his plan to take Richmond would be to make a feint on Petersburg; let Meade engage Lee on the Rappahannock; send 20 or 30 men and land them at the White House on the other side of Richmond, so as to attract attention; then have 10,000 cavalry to go up in the evening, and then rush into Richmond the next morning.

GENERAL: How did you get through?

Mr. Holmes got a man to bring me to guide me. He paid him $1,000 in Confederate money, and he brought me to the Chickahominy and left me there. He fooled me. I came across the river. I got a boat. I don’t think there are any men on the Chickahominy, or only a few cavalry. There are none nearer than Lee’s army. At Chaffin’s farm there is about a regiment. He told me to tell you that Drewry’s Bluff is the strongest point; he said you must come around Richmond on the other side. Morgan is applying for 1,000 men. The papers say he is going to make a raid into Kentucky. I didn’t believe that, though, for if he was the papers would not say so. Miss Van Lew said that all the women ought to be kept from passing from Baltimore to Richmond. She said they did a great deal of harm. She also said that there as a Mrs. Graves who carried a mail through to Portsmouth. She hoped you would catch her. The last time she brought a mail into Portsmouth she came in a wagon selling corn. (519-21)

HDQRS. FIRST DIVISION, DEPT. OF WEST VIRGINIA
Harper’s Ferry, Va., March 18, 1864

Captain T. MELVIN,
      Assistant Adjutant-General:

CAPTAIN: The following has been received from Martinsburg, Va., and respectfully forwarded for the information of the general commanding the department:

HDQRS., SECOND BRIGADE, FIRST DIVISION, DEPT. OF WEST VIRGINIA

CAPTAIN: I have the honor to report the arrival to-day of 3 refugees from Staunton. They report that Rosser has gone to Gordonsville to join Lee; that Early is no longer in that region; that there is nothing in Staunton but a provost guard; that Imboden only is in the valley, and, with Gilmor and Mosby, has not more than 1,000 men. They say that Staunton is regarded as second in importance only to Richmond, the supply for Lee’s army coming in a great measure from the valley, and that if the commissary stores there were seized, the bridge burnt, and railroad torn up, so to sever communication, it would be fatal. They report a raid contemplated some days since to throw the train containing Kilpatrick’s horses off the track; they report great scarcity of provisions. Rebel meat rations are 1 pound to 8 men; forage mostly gone; cattle, what there are, in very bad condition--meat fairly blue after being killed; that the scarcity is so great that Lee’s army must break into our lines or starve; that there is much discontent among the soldiers and desire to desert at the first opportunity; that there are very many loyal men in the valley who pray for the Union army to come in; that the force which went up the valley is greatly strengthened the Union sentiment by their good treatment of the inhabitants. They obtained a pass to Strasburg and thence came through without difficulty. They heard Gilmor was wounded, but saw him last night in Winchester on horseback. A supper was given him there last night. He came into Winchester immediately after our forces left. Citizens say Gilmor got no booty this last raid and lost 15 men. It is reported that Imboden has been ordered to report to Lee. Their names are Gabriel Hirsch, Mrs. Lizzie Hirsch, and Lizzie Haggaden. They are very fearful lest their names shall be mentioned, as Mrs. Hirsch leaves three children behind.

WM. M. BOONE
      Captain and Assistant Adjutant-General

I, remain, captain, very respectfully, your obedient servant,
J. C. SULLIVAN
      (697-98) Brigadier-General, Commanding

JUNE 9-14, 1864--Scout from Cassville, Mo., to Cross Hollow, Ark.

Report of Maj. Jeremiah Hackett, Second Arkansas Cavalry (Union)
CASSVILLE, ARK., June 15, 1864,

COLONEL: I have the honor to submit the following report:

Leaving Cassville on the 9th instant, I proceeded secretly in the section of Cross Hollow. . . . June 12 returned as far as Sugar Creek, where the wire was destroyed for more than one-quarter mile, poles dug up and insulators broken up. I encamped here. June 13, I made with the cavalry of my command a scout to the east of the road as far as Packet’s Mills, on Prairie Creek. Saw 4 men, well mounted and armed, who on sight of my command scattered and escaped. Crops are looking fine in this vicinity. I returned and intersected the Wire road at Pea Ridge; overtook the infantry at the head of Little Sugar Creek, where I encamped, catching 2 women, Mrs. and Miss Gibson, engaged in an attempt to break the telegraph wire near the fork of the Bentonville road. I brought the women with me, prisoners. I received no reliable information except what has already been communicated. (993)

MARCH 27-31, 1864--Scout from Little Rock to Benton, Ark.

LITTLE ROCK, Ark., 18 March 1864,

SIR: I have the honor to report that, in obedience to your orders, I left Little Rock at 3 o’clock on Sunday morning. . . . .

On my way down I learned from William B. Young and William Sterinan that there was a set of rebel guerrillas stealing cotton in the neighborhood, who were pressing wagons and hauling stolen cotton to Benton, and getting it hauled from there to Little Rock. . . .On the 20th two days after, Mrs. Olivia McAdo, Mrs. Sue Thompson, Mrs. Jane Elrod, and Miss Bethena Wiley came to Mrs. Miller’s and took two bales off; and Mrs. McAdo and Miss Bethena Wiley came to Little Rock with one bale of cotton; the balance was thrown in the woods or concealed. On Sunday last Mrs. McAdo, Mrs. Sue Thompson, Miss Bethena Wiley, Miss Fanny Lee, and Mrs. Thomas Glidewell came in with the remainder of the cotton. On learning that these ladies would probably be back on Tuesday night, and thinking that probably the guerrillas would be there to get the news, &c., I returned to Benton and arrested three of the ladies engaged in hauling the cotton, and I was not mistaken; the bushwhackers made a desperate rally to get the captured wagon and their fair friends, but they failed to get either. The goods are now in my possession, subject to your order. (858-59)

HDQRS. MILITARY DIVISION OF THE MISSISSIPPI
In the Field, Atlanta., Ga., September 19, 1864

Lieut. Gen. U. S. GRANT, City Point Va.,

GENERAL: Your messenger has not yet arrived. Things remain status quo. . . .I have ordered one of my female scouts [Mrs. N. W. Meyer, under assumed name of Nora Winder] from New Orleans to Augusta and will send some out from here and give you prompt notice of any of Hood’s army going East. . . .I await the arrival of your messenger with impatience. All well, but large numbers of our men and officers are being discharged-time out--and we must have recruits.

W. T. SHERMAN
     Major-General, Commanding

    (404)

[Two other short quotes from memoranda in this volume also note the active use of women scouts in the field, as does the mention of Mrs. Roberts above and material on Pauline Cushman below. On October 3, 1864, Maj. B. H. Polk wrote to Maj. Gen. George Thomas, from Nashville: "General Starkweather telegraphs that Mary McNall, one of our scouts, who left Florence this morning, and other scouts just in from the Tennessee River report that stream has risen four feet, and is not now fordable." (58) Then from Whites Station on October 16, 1864, a telegram was copied to Brig. Gen. Grierson: "Katie Rhodes just left here for Memphis. She says this place is to be attacked at 3 o’clock tomorrow morning by Chalmers." (322)]

HDQRS. DETACHMENT, THIRD RHODE ISLAND CAVALRY
Plaquemine, La. 22 February 1865

LIEUTENANT: I have the honor to report that, pursuant to verbal instructions from Maj. R. G. Shaw, I left Plaquemine later in the afternoon of the 17th instant with fifty-seven men and one officer of my own detachment, and a company of Independent Scouts numbering two officers and thirty-four men. . . . On the 18th my pickets at The Park stopped a small flatboat which came down Grand River, and took from it Felix Bellocq, wife and child and Mrs. P. Thrahan, owner of the boat, with three negro men. They had a large amount of baggage, and on the person of Felix Bellocq was found considerable mail matter, while on the person of Mrs. Monier was found a number of private papers, including several very important ones belonging to Mr. Bellocq. . . . (120)

HDQRS. DEPARTMENT OF VIRGINIA
Fortress Monroe, June 24, 1863

COLONEL WM. HOFFMAN,
Commissary-General of Prisoners:

COLONEL: An infamous outrage unknown to you was committed by sending on the last flag-of-truce boat, under the charge of Major Mulford, Third Regiment, N.Y. Volunteers, a woman, who was placed on board by Detective Baker or Superintendent Wood, or both, to be sent to Richmond and who was a detective in their employ.

I have called for a report in this case, and when made by Major Mulford, I will forward it to the Secretary of War and will furnish you with a copy. . . .

The name of the woman as given on the roll is Ann Waters, Warrenton, Fauquier County, rebel mail carrier and contrabandist. . . .

WM. H. LUDLOW
(40) Lieut. Colonel and Agent for Exchange of Prisoners

SAINT LOUIS, June 2, 1864

I resided near Chestnut Bluff, Tenn., and went into the Confederate service on the breaking out of the rebellion. Myself and Lieutenant Craig went around and got together enough volunteers to make up a company, which we took into Freeman’s regiment. I was second lieutenant in the infantry. After the battle of Shiloh I commanded the company. I took my command then and joined Forrest’s command, as first lieutenant and acted as such under the name of Lieutenant Rawley. While with Forrest’s command I was, a large portion of the time, occupied on special service, much of which was of a secret character and in the performance of which I passed in the character of a female. Whilst also employed I was detailed to procure ordnance and ammunition, and came to Saint Louis as Mary Hays.

The first time I came here, which was during the winter of 1864, I stopped at the Everett House. I had been told that the house of Beauvais would supply ammunition for the Confederates. I went there and met John Beauvais. By means of secret signs, known those in the secret, I made myself known to him and he recognized me. I told him I desired to see him at the Everett House on business and he called. When he called I told him what my business was and what I wanted, which was caps. He said he would supply me with anything I wanted and brought me $80 worth, which I took down the river on a boat, the name of which I cannot remember. I landed at Randolph and passed through the Federal lines to Forrest. The second time I came up on the City of Alton to Columbus, and from Columbus to Saint Louis on the Von Phul. I went to the Everett House again, but it was crowded, and then I called at Beauvais’ office, after which I went to Barnum’s and John Beauvais came up to Barnum’s to see me. I again told him what the object of my visit was, and he brought about the same number of caps, two pair of Smith & Wesson pistols, and, I think, six boxes of cartridges. I believe that was all I got at that time. I went down to the Von Phul again to Randolph and passed through the lines to Forrest.

I came a third time; came up from Randolph on the Hillman, and again stopped at Barnum’s. I again sent for Beauvais, and when he came told him what I wanted, all of which he brought to me. He brought $80 worth of caps and pair or two of fine Colt pistols, officer’s belt and scabbard, arms and cartridges for--I have forgotten what pistol. There were three boxes. The second time I came I got a silver pencil and a gold pen, and I got a watch mended--that was the second time--I was thinking it was the last time. I got the last time $80 worth of caps and a pair of Colt revolvers, officer’s scabbard and belt, gun, cloak, and leggings.

At these different interviews I made known to Mr. Beauvais that these things were for Forrest’s command. The first time he said to me that they were talking of conscripting, and he told me that if they did he was going South; if they did not, he would not go, for he could be of more service to the Confederacy here than in the South; but if they conscripted he was going, for he never would fight for the Federal Government that he was a Southern man in principle and always had been. He told me he would do anything in the world for the South, and that his father was as good a Southern man as he was, and would do anything for the South. He asked me about how the times were at the South.

The second time I came up I told him about Forrest and Sherman having that fight, and he was glad to hear it, and rejoined that Forrest gave him a thrashing. He told me if I came there at any time and he was away on business all I had to do was just to make known to his father who I was, and what my business was, and he would let me have anything I wanted, and if he could not supply it himself he would get if for me. His father would do anything I asked in favor of the South. He also told me that his father belonged to this secret order. I never have seen him but twice. The last time I was at his store after he had been arrested.

On these trips which I made I had no interviews with the landlord of the Everett House, nor did I make known to him my business or character. I had an interview with Barnum and his head clerk, Mr. Morrison, and I think also the second time I made known my character to Barnum, that I was detailed by General Forrest. I knew him because he belonged to the same order as I did. The clerk I just told my business. I discovered in my interview with Barnum that he was in the same secrets as myself. His clerks were not, or, if they were, they would not receive any recognition or give any. Yet they said they were Southern men, and would do all they could for the South. The second clerk had been in the Confederate Army, when he was wounded and then discharged.

In going down the river these different trips, I made the porter on the Von Phul acquainted with the secret and he hid some things for me. So did the porter on the Hillman and the clerk on the Hillman. Neither of these men belonged to the same secret order. The clerks on the Hillman and Von Phul do though, but the latter did not conceal anything from me because the porter did what I wanted, and I did not have to call upon him. He told me I could go up and down on the boat whenever I wanted to, and it would not cost me a cent.

After my capture, I had an interview with John Beauvais at his store. When I went in he was in the private office back of the store. I went back and spoke to him, and he got up and went back to the back part of the store. His father was selling some jewelry to a lady. He spoke to me and asked me how I came on, and about how times were in the South, and asked me if I was up on the same business, and I said I was. He said, I am sorry, Mollie, that I cannot supply you this time, for, he said, they know just what I have got and my father and I and the clerks are under bonds, and I am not allowed to touch or sell anything in that line, but, he said, if you will go on to Cincinnati you can get what you want there, and as soon as this thing is over you shall have anything you want. I had his picture with me when I was captured. I denied to him that I was at Fort Pillow and that I burned his picture. I did not want to let him know I was captured. The picture I actually burned.

I went to this store the last time under the advice of a Memphis detective with a view to see if he would continue the sale for he was arrested. I landed, on the last trip, at Randolph. When I got there I was not going to Forrest; I was going to send him those things, which I did, by one of his officers, Captain Wright, and was not going. I was going back to Saint Louis. I had sent him a letter stating that I had procured a large quantity of caps, powder, ammunition, &c.; that I had employed Mr. Williams to bring them down. I was waiting for an order from Forrest to say where he wanted them sent to. There was a large quantity, quite a wagonload. I was not going to Forrest myself at all, but when I got there, the next day after I had sent them as many as Captain Wright and his brother and a negro boy, which he owned, could carry, I sent word to Forrest I intended to go right back to Saint Louis as soon as I could arrange the business there. I received a dispatch from Forrest ordering me to report at his headquarters about ten miles from Fort Pillow. He wanted me to take my position in the field, as he said he would rather detail ten of his best officers for this business than lose my services at that time. So I started on a mule and was captured. Somebody told on me. They had something in the papers about my being captured--taking an officers’ horse away and threatening to shoot him--which was all false. I was taken from the place where I was captured to Fort Pillow. I was captured about five or six miles from Fort Pillow at the house of Mr. Green, A Southern man. I was there, I think three days; two or three, I am not certain which.

While I was at Fort Pillow I was standing one day some distance from headquarters, and there was a gentleman came up behind me, slapping me on the shoulder and asked if he had the honor of meeting Lieutenant Rawley. I said yes. He said that Forrest was coming here with 4,000 men to take the place and he was going to take it if took every man he had, and he would learn them how to arrest women--he would teach them a lesson. I did not know the man, though his face looked familiar. He turned right away and I went right into the office at headquarters; a short time afterward he came in. He wanted a pass to go out, and a Tennessee soldier who came with him into the office vouched for his loyalty. As Colonel Booth was making out a pass for him, I slapped him on the shoulder, when he turned around and said: "Must I grant this Pass, Mollie, or must I not?" I said "Use your own judgement, colonel; you know your own business best." He issued the pass and the man went out. After the man was gone I told Colonel Booth what I had heard; that Forrest was coming in a few days with 4,000 men, and he would undoubtedly take the place if he made the attempt. My advice was to evacuate the fort or re-enforce it at once, for if Forrest did get possession the Federal forces, and especially the officers, would be badly used. He told me, "Mollie, now make your preparation to go to Memphis this evening, for I’ll be damned if he shall have you." He then told the captain of Gun-boat No. 7 to stop the first boat that came down, or sink her. I went to Memphis and the fort was taken the next day or day after--I think the day after.

Before my capture my mind and feelings had undergone a very material change from what they were when I started out in the war as to the character of the Northern people and soldiers and the merits of the controversy involved. I started out with the most intense feelings of prejudice against the Northern people. I regarded all I had heard as to their views, character, and purposes to be true, but my intercourse with such as came into our possession during my service in the Confederate Army, and especially my trip to Saint Louis, convinced me of my error in this respect. I found the Union officers and soldiers not to be the desperadoes which I had been taught to believe them to be. At Saint Louis I found business flourishing, people thriving, and everything so entirely different from the condition of things in the South and from what I had supposed to be that my observations could not help but make an impression upon my mind. While it had not for a moment the effect of inducing even a thought in me to desert the Confederate service, and thus be guilty of a dishonorable act, it had, nevertheless, the effect, as I have already stated, of materially changing my views and feelings. This was the condition of my mind when I was captured, and I accordingly immediately resolved to perform an honorable part and do nothing to discredit or disgrace my name. While satisfied I had been performing services which placed my life at the mercy and disposal of the Federal Government, I felt it to be my duty to tell the truth and do what I could to atone for the past, and resolved to throw myself upon the government. I resolved, be the result with me personally what it might, never to return to the Confederate service and continue my former career. I accordingly, immediately on my arrival at Fort Pillow, gave such information as I could to vindicate my personal integrity and show the authorities my determination to act in good faith.

[At this point, Pitman offers to assist federal officers in capturing Gen. Nathan Bedford Forrest who she was supposed to meet that night, but fearing a trap they demurred. From this point on in her interview that goes on for another six pages, the provost marshal asks questions about the existence and operations of a secret Confederate organization with membership North and South and of disloyalty in the U.S. Army and in Washington. She most likely is referring to the Knights of the Golden Circle whose members at that point in the war may have linked with the Confederate Secret Service.]

U.S.S. COMMODORE READ
Off Alexandria [Va.], January 2, 1864

SIR: I have the honor to report to you that I send to day to the provost-martial at Washington nine prisoners, viz: Thomas Mack, Richard Norton, Isaac Quall (colored), captured December 29 at Plowden’s Wharf, Wicomico River, they having crossed the night before and being on their way to Baltimore. They were arrested for a violation of the blockade.

The other six were captured by the steamer Yankee on the night of the 27th at Nomini, Va., while attempting to cross to Maryland; William Winfield in charge; W. H. Thomas, boy, engaged in working boat; S. B. Burrows, first lieutenant rebel Army, Prince George’s, Md.; William A. Coalie, of Prince George’s, Md., formerly of the rebel Army; Mrs. Mary Davidson, whose husband [is] in the rebel Navy; Mrs. Caroline Mara and child, whose husband is South.

I also sent the provost marshal the following documents, money, etc., belonging to the prisoners:

W. Winfield, $55, Confederate money; Mrs. Caroline Mara, bills of exchange on London, legal documents; S. B. Burrows, papers, W. A. Coalie, papers.

A boat landing failed to discover the whereabouts of any goods at Nomini or that region.

There is a sufficient force between Nomini and Berton’s Bay to intercept anything that may attempt to cross.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

FOXHALL A. PARKER
Commander, Commanding Potomac Flotillas.

Hon. GIDEON WELLES,
Secretary of the Navy, Washington, D. C.

(381-82)

_________________________________________________________________

OFFICE OF THE PROVOST MARSHAL
Washington, March 17, 1863

Hon. E. M. Stanton, Secretary of War:--

Sir--I have the honor to submit the following report relative to the arrest of Miss [Antonia] F[ord], on the charge that, while holding a commission n the Confederate Army, and performing active service under such commission as an aide-de-camp to Brigadier-General J. E. B. Stuart, now commanding a brigade in said army, the said Miss F. came within the Union lines as a spy, for the purpose of obtaining and communicating to officers in the Confederate army information of the movements, localities, and purposes of the Union forces, and that the said Miss F. did secretly and perfidiously obtain such information and treasonably communicate the same to officers and others to the Confederate service.

In order more clearly to indicate the character and purposes of the said Miss F., and the positive commission by her of the treasonable acts with which she is charged, I am compelled to refer to certain military events of recent occurrence at and in the vicinity of Fairfax Courthouse, Va. On the night of the 10th instant, the pickets and outposts of the United States forces stationed at Fairfax Court-House were disgracefully surprised and captured by an attacking party of Confederate cavalry, under command of Captain Moseby; following up this success, the rebel force penetrated our lines, surprised and captured the commanding officer, Colonel Stoughton, in his quarters, and succeeded in carrying away with them a large amount of valuable Government property, including over one hundred horses. The time, circumstance, and mode of this attack and surprise, the positive and accurate knowledge in possession of the rebel leader, of the members and position of our forces, of the exact localities of officers’ quarters, and depots of Government property, all pointed unmistakably to the existence of traitors and spies within our lines, and their recent communication with Confederate officers.

Acting upon this conclusion, I ordered a female detective belonging to this office, in whose discretion and abilities I had great confidence, to proceed at once to Fairfax Court-House, and, under color of attachment to the secession cause, place herself in contact with and obtain the confidence of the person suspected.

In compliance with such order, the detective mentioned visited Fairfax Court-House, and in the assumed character of a friend and agent of the Government, asking advice and assistance in efforts to reach Warrenton, and find a refuge within the Confederate lines, met with a warm reception, and was rewarded for her pretended devotion to secession by confidential disclosures not less valuable than interesting.

The person visited by my detective, and to whom suspicion had already pointed to as an active and unscrupulous Confederate agent, was Miss F. In the exercise of a credulous simplicity and sympathy scarcely to be expected from a staff officer of the rebel army, Miss F. displayed to the anxious gaze of the detective a military commission, of which the following is a copy:--