Christmas During the Civil War

The first Christmas tree in America was erected in Cleveland, Ohio in 1851, so most likely you would have had at least one prior to the war. Most decorations would have been made at home and were very simple, such as dried and sugared nuts and fruits, popcorn balls and string. Colored paper, wax ribbon, spun glass, and silver foil ornaments were also popular. Ornaments were made in the shape of doll faces, angels, the Christ Child, and animals. Most trees sat on the table top. Unwrapped presents would be placed under them. Without a doubt, the Christmas tree was the centerpiece of the home. The entire house would have been decorated with greenery such as fir, pine, holly, ivy, and mistletoe.

Songs such as "Silent Night," "Oh Come All Ye Faithful," "Hark the Herald Angels Sing," and "Deck the Halls" were popular. "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" was written in 1850, and other songs such as "O Little Town of Bethlehem," "Away in a Manger," "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day," and "Up on the Housetop" soon followed.

The Christmas Card started in 1844 and must have been dearly prized during the war!

Tally Simpson a member of the 3rd South Carolina Volunteer wrote his sister from Fredericksburg trenches.

From: Tally Simpson, Camp near Fredricksburg
To: Anna Simpson
Camp near Fred'burg
Dec 25th, 1862

My dear Sister

This is Christmas Day. The sun shines feebly through a thin cloud, the air is mild and pleasant, [and] a gentle breeze is making music through the leaves of the lofty pines that stand near our bivouac. All is quiet and still, and that very stillness recalls some sad and painful thoughts.

This day, one year ago, how many thousand families, gay and joyous, celebrating Merry Christmas, drinking health to absent members of their family, and sending upon the wings of love and affection long, deep, and sincere wishes for their safe return to the loving ones at home, but today are clad in the deepest mourning in memory to some lost and loved member of their circle. If all the dead (those killed since the war began) could be heaped in one pile and all the wounded be gathered together in one group, the pale faces of the dead and the graons of the wounded would send such a thrill of horror through the hearts of the originators of this war that their very souls would rack with such pain that they would prefer being dead and in torment than to stand before God with such terrible crimes blackening their characters. Add to this the cries and wailings of the mourners - mothers and fathers weeping for their sons, sisters for their brothers, wives for their husbands, and daughters for their fathers - [and] how deep would be the convictions of their consciences.

Yet they do not seem to think of the affliction and distress they are scattering broadcast over the land. When will this war end? Will another Christmas roll around and find us all wintering in camp? Oh! That peace may soon be restored to our young but dearly beloved country and that we may all meet again in happiness.

But enough of these sad thoughts. We went on picket in town a few days ago. The pickets of both armies occupy the same positions now as they did before the battle. Our regt was quartered in the market place while the others occupied stores and private houses. I have often read of sacked and pillaged towns in ancient history, but never, till I saw Fredricksburg, did I fully realize what one was. The houses, especially those on the river, are riddled with shell and ball. The stores have been broken open and deprived of every thing that was worth a shilling. Account books and nots and letters and papers both private and public were taken from their proper places and scattered over the streets and trampled under feet. Private property was ruined. Their soldiers would sleep in the mansions of the wealthy and use the articles and food in the house at their pleasure. Several houses were destroyed by fire. Such a wreck and ruin I never wish to see again.

Yet notwithstanding all this, the few citizens who are now in town seem to be cheerful and perfectly resigned. Such true patriots are seldom found. This will ever be a noted place in history.

While we were there, Brig Genl Patrick, U.S.A., with several of his aides-de-camp, came over under flag of truce. Papers were exchanged, and several of our men bought pipes, gloves, &c from the privates who rowed the boat across. They had plenty of liquor and laughed, drank, and conversed with our men as if they had been friends from boyhood.

There is nothing new going on. I am almost dead to hear from home. I have received no letters in nearly three weeks, and you can imagine how anxious I am. The mails are very irregular. I hope to get a letter soon. Dunlap Griffin is dead, died in Richmond of wounds received in the last battle. Capt Hance is doing very well. Frank Fleming is in bad condition. (He has been elected lieutenant since he left.)

Write to me quick right off. I wish to hear from you badly. Remember me to my friends and relatives, especially the Pickens and Ligons. Hoping to hear from you soon I remain

Your bud
Tally

Happy Holidays to all my friends!

The Letter

For anyone who may have seen the Ken Burn's Series the Civil War, He quotes a letter written by a soldier to his wife. In his letter to his wife, Ballou attempted to crystallize the emotions he was feeling: worry, fear, guilt, sadness and, most importantly, the pull between his love for her and his sense of duty. People just don't write like they used to. Sullivan Ballou joined the Rhode Island Volunteers in 1861 and left for Washington, D.C. A thirty-two year old lawyer, husband, and father of two, Ballou was a Republican and an ardent supporter of Abraham Lincoln.

July the 14th, 1861

Washington D.C.

My very dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days—perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.

Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure—and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine O God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing—perfectly willing—to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt.

But, my dear wife, when I know that with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with cares and sorrows—when, after having eaten for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, I must offer it as their only sustenance to my dear little children—is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love for you, my darling wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though useless, contest with my love of country?

I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, when two thousand men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps, before that of death—and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind me with his fatal dart, am communing with God, my country, and thee.

I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in thus hazarding the happiness of those I loved and I could not find one. A pure love of my country and of the principles have often advocated before the people and "the name of honor that I love more than I fear death" have called upon me, and I have obeyed.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar—that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.

Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.

But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night—amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours—always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.

As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a father's love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue-eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal care and your development of their characters. Tell my two mothers his and hers I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.

Sullivan

Ironically, Sullivan Ballou’s letter was never mailed. Although Sarah would receive other, decidedly more upbeat letters, dated after the now-famous letter from the battlefield, the letter in question would be found among Sullivan Ballou’s effects when Gov. William Sprague of Rhode Island traveled to Virginia to retrieve the remains of his state’s sons who had fallen in battle.

Ballou and 93 of his men were mortally wounded at Bull Run. In an attempt to better direct his men, Ballou took a horse mounted position in front of his regiment, when a 6-pounder solid shot from Confederate artillery tore off his right leg and simultaneously killed his horse. The badly injured Major was then carried off the field and the remainder of his leg was amputated. Ballou died from his wound a week after that Union defeat and was buried in the yard of nearby Sudley Church. After the battle the territory was occupied by Confederate forces. According to witness testimony, it was at this time that Ballou's corpse was exhumed, decapitated, and desecrated by Confederate soldiers possibly belonging to the 21st Georgia regiment. Ballou's body was never recovered.

Multiple Personalities

Many of the ladies who re-enact have multiple impressions that they "perform" during re-enactments. Each persona has their own background and behavior. I have decided that I would share my multiple personalities. Most are done whether I am Union or Rebel that day.

The Company Seamstress: The clue to this persona is that I have my tent and there is a sign on it reading "Seamstress". The funniest part of this is that I don't machine sew very well at all.
My "brother" Michael is in the unit I work for but is usually a prisoner of war. I usually have letters from him in my tent. Most import is that the Seamstress is true to the company and not a spy. Hey, come to think of it, there are a few privates that owe me money for sewing I have done!



Private Bergeron's Wife: I am a camp follower because we lost our farm when the private joined the war. He is never seen around camp because he is on picket duty or in the brig for drinking and gambling. I am not a spy.




Maryland Bible Society Member: This lady tires to ensure that the boys receive religious guidance and enters camp handing out cards or pamphlets. The truth is that she is a spy and is actually seeking information on where the troop is going. She also is the cousin of Rose Greenhow the Washington DC spy for the Confederacy. I only do this persona when I am with the Union. I have letters from Rose in my basket along with maps of the Railroads.


Sanitary Commission Member: Dressed as a local lady, I visit the local Union camp and inspect it. I have only done this once with the other ladies and it was sooo much fun!


Train Patron: This is the most fun and challenging persona because at these events both my companies are represented and fighting each other. Usually I am pro union and have some knowledge if healing skills. I use my knitting needles to remove bullets and have "morphine" tablets (Altoids actually) to help those in pain. I try to be nice to my Rebels too though they always outnumber the union at these events.


Well that's it, that generally what I do. I am planning another persona for the next national event. I will be dressed as a man and go onto the battle field with a first aid kit, Ice and water. Anyone got an AED I could borrow?

Off Topic: The Great Moose Hunt 2008

Hunters


**NOTE Detailed description of the Hunt- not suitable for all audience members

Every year my husband and I enter the New Hampshire Moose Lottery to double our chances. This year the joke was on us when I actually GOT the permit. This started a avalanche of time consuming activities.

In Early September I took the Hunter Safety course with my niece. We both enjoyed the class and both passed. With card in hand, I then got my hunting license. Of course on the same day we needed to buy a new gun. We spent several hours scouting the area we were to hunt. Andre, as my subpermittee logged in 60 hours finding several spots that had all sorts of sign during the rut. We invested in a moose call, watched moose call movies and got scents to attract rutting bulls.

Moose Bed

One of the movies we watch showed in detail why the call and scents were needed as well as two moose mating. We lovingly call the movie "Moose Porn".

Finally, after 6 weeks of preparations the day approached.

Scrapes

Day 1
Saturday October 17th dawned clear and we left the house at 5 am. Once in the field we climbed through brush, downed wood and mud to find a rock. There we used the moose call....not a moose was seen. We headed across the clear cut....not a moose to be seen. Then we heard gun shots..5..then 4..then 3...apparently "Machine Gun Kelly" was hunting 1000 feet from us! Needless to say we went elsewhere. We saw lots of sign but no animals. After 12 hours we had seen only 2 medium moose, a cow and a spike horn bull. Together we decided to try for a bigger bull. Little did we know that the rut was over! Home at 7 pm.

Moose Droppings

Day 2
Sunny Sunday: We left the house at 5:30 am, since calling and scents would not help us. We needed to stumble across a moose on the logging roads or in the woods. We hiked, found old signs such as prints, broken or eaten branches and scraps form bulls showing off. Nothing new though. We did see one medium cow and passed her up. Home at 7 pm.

Day 3
Sunny Monday: Again left the house at 5:30 am. We tried many roads again and even went "swamp diving". I actually walked on a beaver damn in the swamp. Later in the day at another site we saw a beaver building its damn. Very cool but no fresh sign of moose. At dusk, with 5 minutes left in the hunt, Andre saw another cow. His scope was fogged so he could not get a good shot off. Home at 7 pm.

Day 4
Cold Rainy Tuesday: More hiking in the woods. No fresh sign of Moose, no moose seen. 5:30 am to 7 pm again. With the rut over, all the Moose are hiding in the swamps resting, or so the experts tell me.
Prints in the Snow

Day 5
Cold Snowy Wednesday: More hiking in the woods. No fresh sign of Moose, no moose seen. 5:30 am to 7 pm again. I am now convinced there are elves making old tracks in the woods to tease us!

Day 6
Warm, Sunny Thursday: More hiking in the woods. 5:30 am to 7 pm again. Finally there is fresh sign again. We tried sitting in the woods for an hour burning moose incense. Late in the day we followed prints through a clear cut and up the side of a mountain. We had to stop due to the late hour or we would have to sleep in the woods!

Day 7
Sunny Friday: We started first thing where we had left off the night before. But the tracks showed that the 3 moose went up and over the mountain. The sky was so blue it looks fake looking!. We followed tracks, then would move to another site, then go back and find new tracks. All afternoon this seemed to happen. Finally we decided to stick to one area. By 6 pm we had given and started for home...then after 4 days of no Moose we saw one!

Finally the Moose!
It was dusk, we had until 6:20 pm to shoot. At 6:08 pm, lumbering in the road was a bull moose.
Andre asked for the rifle...I thought he was joking! "Give me the Rifle!" He said then with it in hand, he aimed and..."click"...yikes the bullet wasn't set in right! Andre quickly adjusted and "boom" the bull, nicknamed Motley, was struck in the chest. At the time we were not sure. The moose seemed dazed but not hurt. We couldn't see the bright blood that had sprayed around him. Motley staggered about 10 feet, then turned and Andre, unsure if the first bullet had hit home shot again. Sadly the moose's upper front leg was broken by the second shot. Still not dead and not wanting Motley to suffer, Andre shot the animal 2 more times in the chest. The Moose was dead.

We were so exited that we hugged and started calling friends for help. The next step was to start the gutting process. With the instruction manual in hand (no I am not joking) we started to cut open the skin and let the abdominal sack out. Half way through we realized that Andre had forgotten a saw. This was needed to get the animal completely gutted.

Now as the permit holder, I was not allowed to leave the animal until it was checked in with Fish and Game. There was no choice but for me to stay with Motley while Andre drove back home to get the trailer and saw. Along the way he would pick up our helpers.

Picture this. 8 pm until 9:30 pm I was in the woods, at night, with a flashlight, rifle and dead moose. Nearest main road and house was 8 miles away. I have never been so scared in my life. Anyone hearing me would have though me insane (insaner?). I cried, sang, prayed then called my sister on my cell phone for reassurance. It was the longest 90 minutes of my life (Both my labors were under 90 minutes and less painful!)

Gutting the Moose

Finally the crew arrived. Buck, Ron and Dwayne. My saviors! They had all the gear, plus a generator and big lights. It took us another 2 hours to gut the animal. Finally by Midnight we headed home with corpse in trailer.

Loading Motley On the Trialer

We woke Saturday and headed for the check station. Motley was a fine specimen.
4 1/2 years old, 740 pounds dressed, 52 inch rack with 16 points. A beauty!
The Official Weigh in

He is now at the butcher and his head is at the taxidermist.
Andre and Motley

All in all Andre and I spent the most time together then we have spent in years. We jokingly call it our second honeymoon...and this time we got along even better!

Rations

The original Federal ration, in 1861 was:

3/4 lb of salt pork or bacon or 1 1/4 lb of salt beef
1 1/4 lb of fresh bread or 3/4 lb of hardtack or 1 1/4 lb of cornmeal
2 1/2 oz dried peas or beans
1 1/2 oz coffee or 1/4 oz tea
2 1/2 oz sugar
1 1/4 oz vinegar
1/2 oz of salt
2 in cube of dessicated vegetables

In 1863 the ration was changed:
increased to 1 lb for hardtack
coffee beans were specified to be 10 lbs of _green_ beans
added 1/10 oz of pepper
added 1/3 lb of fresh potatoes
added 1/3 oz molasses

In addition, each regiment was supposed to have a fund of money to buy
fresh food, but that only worked if there was fresh food available in
the area.

The Confederacy adopted the exact same standard ration. Because of
resources, however, they issued more cornmeal than hardtack or soft
bread, almost no coffee or tea, and were often short on quantity for
everything.

(Thanks to Miss Carolyn for supplying me with this)

Willowbrook

September 2008
This was my third visit to Willowbrook and it will always be a favorite of mine. First, it was my first real event in re-enacting and second because I was voted as a real member of the Third there.

This time I was once again portraying a women from the Maryland Bible Society and found Company A in deep need of a moral compass. Alarmingly, there were underpinnings handing where anyone could see them!



It was delightful to meet the authoress of Billy Boy, a book I very much enjoyed. Ashley spent alot of the time running around and also enjoyed the farm.

The best part of the day was watching grown men in union uniforms riding on undersized carousel ponies. All of them had huge grins on their faces!

Public Restrooms

When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern 'seat covers' (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR! ), yank down your pants, and assume ' The Stance.'!

In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold 'The Stance.'

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, 'Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!' Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. 'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT . It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made con tact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, 'You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get.'

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.

At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.

You are no longer able to smile polite ly to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, 'Here, you just might need this.'

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?'




This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers the other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!

This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so accurately!

Hurricane Ike Uncovers Civil War Ship, Fort Morgan, AL

It has been buried for decades under the sands of the Gulf in Fort Morgan, Alabama. Hurricane Ike uncovers a Civil War ship. The wood of the ship is charred near the beach level.
The ship is about 150 feet long and 36 feet wide at its widest point, based on what could be seen


Ft Morgan
Ft Morgan

The Rock

I Can't believe this was done by a teenager!!
There is a huge rock near a gravel pit on Hwy.25 in rural Iowa.
For generations, kids have painted slogans, names, and obscenities on this rock, changing its character many times. A few months back, the rock received its latest paint job, and since then it has been left completely undisturbed..

It's quite an impressive sight. Be sure to scroll down and check out the multiple photos. (all angles) of the rock.



I thought the flag was draped over the rock, but it's not. It's actually painted on the rock too



Here is the artist. Ray "Bubba" Sorenson

Labor Day Weekend On the Train

A small but sturdy group turned out for the Labor Day Weekend train event.
The day started with 4 against 3. As always it was most enjoyable!

After lunch, One of the Southern belles was kidnapped as a "nurse". By the next train run, she
had disappeared and oddly there was a new soldier in their ranks.




Our last train of the day was had 150 Koreans on board. Few spoke English but all seemed to enjoy the shoot out and Cousin Steve's corpse. Many took pictures with us even posing with Steve as he lay there pretending to be dead!

All Dogs go to heaven?

TO: GOD
FROM: THE DOG

Dear God: Why do humans smell the flowers, but seldom, if ever, smell one another?

Dear God: When we get to heaven, can we sit on your couch? Or is it still the same old story?

Dear God: Why are there cars named after the jaguar, the cougar, the mustang, the colt, the stingray, and the rabbit, but not ONE named for a dog? How often do you see a cougar riding around? We do love a nice ride! Would it be so hard to rename the 'Chrysler Eagle' the 'Chrysler Beagle'?

Dear God: If a dog barks his head off in the forest and no human hears him, is he still a bad dog?

Dear God: We dogs can understand human verbal instructions, hand signals, whistles, horns, clickers, beepers, scent ID's, electromagnetic energy fields, and Frisbee flight paths. What do humans understand?

Dear God: More meatballs, less spaghetti, please.

Dear God: Are there mailmen in Heaven? If there are, will I have to apologize?

Dear God: Let me give you a list of just some of the things I must remember to be a good dog.

1. I will not eat the cats' food before they eat it or after they throw it up.

2. I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc., just because I like the way they smell.

3. The Litter Box is not a cookie jar.

4. The sofa is not a 'face towel'.

5. The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff.

6. I will not play tug-of-war with Dad's underwear when he's on the toilet.

7. Sticking my nose into someone's crotch is an unacceptable way of saying "hello'.

8. I don't need to suddenly stand straight up when I'm under the coffee table.

9. I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house - not after.

10. I will not come in from outside and immediately drag my butt.

11. I will not sit in the middle of the living room and lick my crotch.

12. The cat is not a 'squeaky toy' so when I play with him and he makes that noise, it's usually not a good thing.

P.S. Dear God: When I get to Heaven may I have my testicles back?

U.S. Sanitary Commission visits the Third Maine

June 18, 1861 - President Lincoln signs a bill making the United States Sanitary Commission an official agency. During the next fours years of civil war the volunteer work of thousands of women in the U.S. Sanitary Commission would cut the disease rate of the Union Army in half, and raise around twenty-five million dollars in support of the Northern war effort. Sanitary agents prowled the camps, inspecting the living conditions and the hospitals and setting standards for the hiring of medical personnel.

On August 2, 1863 a group of USSC ladies visited the Third Maine Regiment, Company A at Scribner's Mill, Harrison Maine. This is the report that was filed.

To Mr Frederick Law Olmstead, General Secretary of the United States Sanitary Commission

Sir,
I had occasion to visit the Maine Regiment, Company A at Scribner's Mill, Harrison Maine. Mrs L question the Captain of the group and though he seemed reluctant to allow us to enter the camp, he did realize it was our duty and we were allowed entry. Our first sight was 2 young lads. They were playing the devil's game, gambling and cards. I am concerned that the company's First Sargent and Captain have allowed the impressionable young men to partake in these detrimental activities. The lads were persuaded to take up the good book instead.

Next we visited a Private who seemed to have difficulty standing. At first we though he might have been partaking in liquor but it was found that he was under a physicians care and had laudanum for a previous injury.

I must applaud the men on one point. They all had a spare clean shirt though the size seemed the same for all.

The next Private we spoke to had a severe case of lice. It is my recommendation that a case of strong lye soap be sent to this group as soon as can be arranged.

Our attention was then drawn to a smooth faced man with a particularly harsh cough. We suggestion that he grow a beard to keep his throat warm during the dampness of the evenings.

Mr Olmstead, there is a Senator Gowen in the ranks, I believe he will be writing you with his concerns as he was quite loud in his complaints. The first Sargent assures us that these will be handled through military channels.

To our horror, we found a tablet posted indicating that there would be a card game in the evening and that the soldiers were to lie to us during our visit. The First Sargent again assured us this was a Private playing a joke and the offending soldier would be disciplined.

It came to our attention that there was a woman living in the camp. She was a letter writer for the men so that they could keep contact with their wives and sweethearts at home. We suggested that she also read temperance literature and the good book to the men as well.

Another concern is the lack of rails and proper disposal of the men's waste. The captain assures us that there was no cause for concern but all the same we insisted he build a proper railing to prevent falls.

Our overall impression is that these men need the calming influence of a chaplain to keep their thoughts and bodies pure.

Respectfully Submitted

Confederates at Fort Knox!

For the first time I was 100% confederate at an event that involved the public. At Gettysburg the Blue and Gray were separated so there was not a lot of interaction for civilians, not in the true sense of being a person of the time. At the train events I go with the underdog, which is always the North. But at Ft Knox there was no question, I was a lady of succession, trying to get information from the 2oth Maine to give to the 15th Alabama.

The encampment had a beautiful view of the Penobscott Narrows bridge. We were on the eastern side of the fort overlooking Battery A. The Yankees were stationed in the fort itself. I visited their camp twice on Saturday, once before the battle (they won). I was invited back by a fiddler player who was willing to tune my dulcimer. When I returned with the instrument he used an electronic tuner and I was able to sit a spell with one of the men who enjoyed singing songs of the period. He knew many of them and even sang the first verse of a Rebel song or two.

During the Saturday skirmish, one of the privates was "wounded" and once again I was required to remove a bullet with my knitting needle.

Our Historian Taking Pictures

Sunday, there was another battle (we won!). No knitting needle required for the Southern Gentleman. One thing I learned about the Rebels, is that I have a lot to learn about the confederacy. Another thing I learned is that a lot of people thing the Civil war was just about slavery. Had I not been aware of the ongoing issue of state's rights as far back as when the country was formed, I would most likely think that it was all about slavery too.

(pictures to be posted once they are sent to me)

Gettysburg 2008 Part 5

July 5th, 2008 My Union Day

I woke up a little later Saturday, having planned to be at the Third Maine in time for Chef Bray's delicious meal. Unfortunately that didn't happen and I got there after 8 am. After ensuring that the letters to the soldier's I had written would be "mailed", I attempted again to learn to knit.

Third ME Preparing for battle

This is the second go round with my green yarn and once again the creation is scalloped on the sides (not intended) and looks to be a very useful..er...square. I was saved from total desolation when it was suggested that shopping might help. Yes, again I went to the sutlers, this time with the captain's wife. After lunch, Miss Lucy S was kind enough to show me how to play the dulcimer...I am equally talented in that as I am in knitting!




During the day, we saw a soldier accused of cowardice during battle. He was forced to "Ride the wooden horse" as punishment.



In the after noon I watched another major battle: "Hold The Line", Gallant Rally at the Klingle Farm. This was even more impressive then the previous days and I gt to chat with the National Geographic guy again!



Those who know me, know that I just might have a little trouble sitting on the sidelines sometimes. So when the yellow flags went up, and there were soldiers facing heat injuries, I couldn't stand around, the nurse clicked in. I assisted the "Ice Angles" and EMS staff passing out ice and treating a young lad of 17 who was laying on the ground with a headache. Gads I would love to dress as a field surgeon and be at the front lines!!! (maybe next years event )


Ice Angles?

After the battle there was some confusion as to where some of the Third Maine Men Were. Thankfully it worked out and everyone was accounted for and safe. Still, the confusion made The Captain lecture the men on safety.






After a superb dinner I headed back to the RV


Sadly I did not stay for the largest battle planned for Sunday. Sunday I packed my tent and headed for the highway back to New Hampshire.

My final thoughts...This was an incredible experience... Would I do it again...maybe, the company and battles were great, but the crowds were a bit much for me. Who knows, maybe its like labor and wont seem so bad for the 150th!

Gettysburg 2008 Part 4

My Confederate Day Continued...

Battle: "The Devil's to Pay", First Day Struggle at Willoughby Run

Tracy and I, despite the light rain, decided to watch the battle from the Union side near the bleachers. Overall a very good site to watch the battle. While there we met a photographer from National Geographic. He took alot of pictures (not of us) and told us to check the NG web site for the pictures later this month.



The battle was amazing! Just the size and organization of having this type of event is enough to impress. And the artillery were amazing to watch. From where we were, we watched many Union groups march to the field and I was able to spot the Third Maine. Of note is a story told by a private regarding the soiled doves trying to temp the troops.


I hope Private Tom C does not mind me quoting him but he did such a great job:

We reformed, marched up the hill when suddenly the Captain ordered “Eyes front!” Unfortunately, human nature being what it is, the best way to make someone look at something is to tell them not to. We then spied the Captain’s concern - several soiled doves stood nearby - those poor children had cast away dress and bodice to make clear to the passing soldiers their commercial intentions. The Captain’s concern for the men was most understandable - like the sirens of antiquity, any weak soul harkening to such a seductive call could only find himself soon dashed among rocks in ruin.

I had no way of seeing where the 15th Alabama might be.



After the battle (and yes, more shopping!) I finally ran into Miss Vicky and stuck with her while she looked for some of the other 15th members. Finally we decided to head back to the CS camps via the hay wagon. Again, this was no speeding event. Because of the rain, the CS roads were so muddy that the event planners had to close the road up into the camps while they poured crushed stone on the roadway. That left me, Miss Sandy and Charlene to hike up the hill
(we sent Miss Vicky ahead on a golf cart).



Now I haven't spent alot of time with Little Miss Charlene, but she was delightful! We held hands as we walked and despite her being tired, we made it back to camp. At that point the modern age attacked in the form of my ringing cell phone. My presence was requested in the year 2008 again. I hiked back down the hill (didn't I just get here!) and met my family on Table Rock Road.


Battle: "Holding the High Ground", Defending East Cemetery Hill

There we were able to watch some of the evening battle from the Confederate side (Where were the 15th?)


While we watched it started to rain..Hard so I headed back to the RV.