Phenomenal Women of the Civil War

[Belle]

Martha J. Coston (1829-1904), was an inventor and successful businesswoman during the second half of the 19th century. She made her mark with one invention, which she wrote about in her one book, an autobiography, A Signal Success. Although obscured in traditional history, her singular invention is not invisible, but marks maritime history in significance, widespread application, and longevity. Like her invention, her story, buried deep in the archives of history, resonates with significance more than a century later. Her invention and relationship to the U.S. Navy during the Civil War represents the early chapters of her remarkable story.

Her invention, a pyrotechnic night signal flare and code system, was first successfully used by the U.S. Navy during the Civil War. After the War, the United States Life Saving Service, forerunner of the United States Coast Guard, used the flare extensively well into the 20th century. Her manufacturing company began in 1859 and survived until at least 1985, possibly longer. Additionally, the U.S. Weather Service, military institutions in England, France, Holland, Italy, Austria, Denmark, and Brazil, commercial merchant vessels, and private New York Yachting Clubs all adopted the Coston Signal Flare and code system.

Coston was born in Baltimore, Maryland, and moved to Philadelphia with her widowed mother, brothers, and sisters sometime during her childhood in the 1830s. At the age of 16, perhaps even a bit younger, she married Benjamin Franklin Coston, a promising young inventor who had already developed a working prototype of a submarine that could be “navigated eight hours under water.”


By this time, Coston already experienced the affects of serious health hazards by constant inhalation of chemical gases used in experiments while at the Navy Yard. His process of generating gas from rosin further aggravated his conditioned. Although his accomplishments with gas lighting were hailed as a major success in both home and commercial lighting, the toxic effects of chemical processing proved fatal to Benjamin F. Coston. He died on November 24, 1848, leaving behind a widow with four small children.

Martha’s personal tragedy continued over the next two years as she lost first her infant son, then her mother, than yet another son. These devastating tragedies left her in poor emotional, physical, and financial straights. Although an educated woman for her time, Coston’s education proved wholly inadequate for what was soon to become her life’s work, the business of invention.

Shortly after her husband’s death, she admitted that “through her own ignorance and the duplicity of others,” particularly a relative who “misplaced” her money, she found herself penniless. She “did not know how to dig” and was “ashamed to beg.” In this state on a gloomy November afternoon, deeply depressed, she began sorting through her husband’s papers. She discovered “numerous packets, carefully sealed and labeled,” one of which contained drawings for a pyrotechnic night signal. [6] She recalled that her husband worked on this invention while at the Washington Navy Yard and had given a test set of the signals to a particular naval officer for later testing. Contact with this officer proved difficult and the return of the signal flares problematic. Eventually he begrudgingly returned the damaged box of signals without any documentation as to the "written recipes for their manufacture.”

This began one of the most challenging “testing” periods of her life, calculated in both personal and professional measures. Coston used her Washington D.C. social and U.S. Navy connections forged during her marriage to pursue what she considered the one hope for her whole future. With desperate determination, she approached the current Secretary of the Navy, Isaac Toucey, about having the signals tested. To her relief, “he readily consented to a trial of the signals,” giving her the option of choosing where the signals would be tested. She requested that tests be carried out in the Home Squadron, which fell to the flagship Wabash under Commodore (afterwards Admiral) Paulding.

At the conclusion of the testing period, Coston received a letter from Paulding, informing her that “the signals proved utterly good for nothing.” Paulding also mentioned in the letter that he thought the signals a very good idea and encouraged continued work to perfect the invention. He did not want the record to reflect that he was “the one who put her lights out.”

Upon receiving the adverse report, Secretary Toucey remained loyal to the idea and offered Coston the use of the Washington Navy Yard and its talent to perfect the invention. She accepted his offer. After six months, another test was executed, again with dismal results. In addition to Coston’s extremely limited pyrotechnic and chemistry knowledge, hints surfaced of lingering political animosity against Coston’s husband over the use of the percussion primer by the U.S. Navy.

The Yard was under the direction of John A. Dahlgren (later famous for his ordnance developments) and his staff, some of who were associated with the percussion primer incident. But there were other Navy personnel, in particular Secretary Toucey, who steadfastly continued to believe “that the invention if properly carried out would be of incalculable service to the government.”

Still, it was a bitter edge that Coston recaps this "testing" part of her life. She wrote:

It would consume too much space, and weary my readers, for me to go into all the particulars of my efforts to perfect my husband’s idea. The men I employed and dismissed, the experiments I made myself, the frauds that were practiced upon me, almost disheartened me; but despair I would not, and eagerly I treasured up each little step that was made in the right direction, the hints of naval officers, and the opinions of the different boards that gave the signals a trial.


The testing period of her life consumed nearly ten years of experimentation to perfect the “recipe” for a flare that burned red, white, and blue. Coston’s reference to the men she employed, the experiments she made herself, and the frauds practiced upon her represent some of the most trying obstacles. Because she did not possess knowledge of chemistry, scientific experimentation methodology, or an understanding of business, she had to rely on those who had such knowledge, all of whom were men. Based on gender alone, she felt ignored, not taken seriously, and sometimes deceived.

Still she persevered, treasuring the support she did have, and finally experienced a breakthrough while watching the New York celebration of the laying of the first transatlantic cable in 1858. After viewing the spectacular fireworks, she began corresponding with several of the New York pyrotechnists in hope of getting a strong blue as a third color to be used with the red and white that she already developed. She corresponded under a man’s name fearing that they would not give heed to a woman. One man replied that he had made a blue color some years previous.

Coston urged him to duplicate the blue, but if not she would be interested in a strong green. Within ten days, she received a package containing a strong green color. In the end, her desire for the patriotic red, white, and blue could not be achieved with the same clarity and brilliance as green. Coston immediately entered negotiations to work with this New York pyrotechnist.

Coston’s motivation and strength during this time was much the same as any inventor, male or female. She was interested in making money. It was a matter of survival for her and her children. And not unlike other inventors, a spirit of national patriotism also motivated her. She characterized herself as an exemplary patriot and humanitarian, especially in the looming portent of a Civil War.

In the preface of her autobiography, A Signal Success, she wrote with stirring emotion and typical Victorian voice, that it was her “intense and heartfelt desire to accomplish something for the good of humanity.” She finally presented her accomplishment to the world on April 5, 1859, in the form of Patent No. 23,536, a pyrotechnic night signal and code system.

The patent was granted to Martha J. Coston as administratrix of B. Franklin Coston, but the patent clearly states B. Franklin Coston as the inventor although he had been dead for more than 10 years. Her next patent in 1871 was patented entirely under her own name.

There are several reasons why she may have patented first in her deceased husband’s name and subsequently in her own. The strongest evidence supports that this was a business decision, calculated to benefit from the established reputation and name of a known successful Navy inventor. Coston pays attention to appropriate feminine protocol and Victorian female conduct inconsistently, but does so most noticeably when it furthers business interests.

By 1859, the success of the signal was well documented by a specially appointed board of Naval Examiners by Secretary Toucey. After a month long testing period, a report was published in February, 1859. In brief summary, the report contained three main points: (1) Coston signals are better than any other known to them; (2) the Board strongly recommend them for the use of the navy; and (3) Signals being the means whereby orders are given, or wants made known at sea, a good code of them plainly intelligible to the persons addressed is absolutely necessary to the efficient conduct of a fleet.

The current “night signals were arranged in a separate code, of little extent, and of uncertain determination.” The report concluded with full endorsement: “The Application of the “Coston night signals” to the navy day signal books gives a perfect code of night signals. They offer precision. fullness, and plainness, at a less cost for fireworks than it is thoughtwe now pay for confusion and uncertainty.” In the opinion of the Board of Examiners,Capt. Charles McCauley, Commander John Rogers, and Lt. Henry Lewis, the signals were “decidedly superior.”

"To sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment." ~Jane Austen~


"The Directory of Directors in the City of New York"
"A Signal Success"
"Coston's Telegraphic Night Signals"

[Belle]

Elizabeth A. Hyatt, Chilton, Wisconsin

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.


"Women of the Civil War" 

[Belle]

Margaret Hamilton, Rochester, New York

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."

"Never interrupt someone doing what you said couldn't be done."~Amelia Earhart~


"Women in the American Civil War"

[Belle]

Mary Stenebaugh-Bradford, Galion, Ohio

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.

"How poor are they who have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees." ~Shakespeare~

"Women in the American Civil War"

[Belle]

A Heroine in Baltimore

Ann Manley

The band of the Sixth Regiment that left Boston in April, 1861 consisted of twenty-four persons, who, together with their musical instruments, occupied a car by themselves from Philadelphia to Baltimore. By some accident, the musicians' car got switched off at the Canton Depot, so that, instead of being the first, it was left in the rear of all the others, and after the attack had been made by the mob upon the soldiers, they came upon the car in which the band was still sitting, wholly unarmed, and incapable of making any defence.

The infuriated demons approached them howling and yelling, and poured in upon them a shower of stones, broken iron, and other missiles, wounding some severely, and demolishing their instruments. Some of the miscreants jumped upon the roof of the car, and with a bar of iron beat a hole through it, while others were calling for powder to blow them all up in a heap. Finding that it would be sure destruction to remain longer in the car, the poor fellows jumped out to meet their fiendish assailants hand to hand.

They were saluted with a shower of stones, but took to their heels, fighting their way through, the crowd, and running at random, without knowing in what direction to, go for assistance or shelter. As they were hurrying along, a rough-looking man suddenly jumped in front of their leader, and exclaimed, “This way, boys! this way!”. It was the first friendly voice they had heard since entering Baltimore, and they stopped to ask no questions, but followed their guide, who took them up a narrow court, where they found an open door, into which they rushed, being met inside by a powerful-looking woman, who grasped each one by the hand, and directed them upstairs. The last of their band was knocked senseless just as he was entering the door, by a stone, which struck him on the head; but the woman who had welcomed them immediately caught up their fallen comrade, and carried him in her arms up the stairs.

“You are perfectly safe here, boys," said the Amazon, who directly proceeded to wash and bind up their wounds.

After having done this, she procured them food, and then told them to strip off their uniforms, and put on the clothes she had brought them a motley assortment of baize jackets, ragged coats, and old trousers. Thus equipped, they were enabled to go out in search of their companions, without danger of attack from the Plug Ullies and Blood Tubs, who had given them so rough a reception.

They then learned the particulars of the attack upon the soldiers, and of their escape, and saw lying at the station the two men who had been killed, and the others who had been -wounded. One of their own band was missing, and he has not yet been found, and it is uncertain whether he was killed or not. On going back to the house where they were so humanely treated, they found that their clothes had been carefully tied up, and with their battered instruments, had been sent to the depot of the Philadelphia Railroad, where they were advised to go themselves.

They did not long hesitate, but started in the next train, and arrived at Philadelphia just in time to meet the Eighth Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers, under the command of Gen. Butler, who told them to hurry back to the Old Bay State to show their battered faces and broken limbs, and that they should yet come back, and play Hail Columbia in the streets of Baltimore, where they had been so inhumanly assaulted.

The noble-hearted woman who rescued these men is a well-known character in Baltimore, and according to all the usages of Christian society, is an outcast and a polluted being; but she is a true heroine, nevertheless, and entitled to the grateful consideration of the country. When Gov. Hicks had put himself at the head of the rabble rout of miscreants, and Winter Davis had fled in dismay, and the men of wealth and official dignity had hid themselves in their terror, and the police were powerless to protect the handful of unarmed strangers who were struggling with the infuriated mob, this degraded woman took them under her protection, dressed their wounds, fed them at her own cost, and sent them back in safety to their homes.

As she is too notorious in Baltimore not to be perfectly well known by what we have already told of her, it will not be exposing her to any persecution to mention her name. Ann Manley is the name by which she is known in the city of Blood Tubs, and the loyal men of the North, when they march again through its streets, should remember her for her humanity to their countrymen.

"And remember, where you have a concentration of power in a few hands, all too frequently men with the mentality of gangsters get control. History has proven that. All power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely."
~Lord Acton~

"19th Century Writings of the Civil War"
 

[Henry Moon]

"Southern Women
Record the Civil War"
The Civil War As Seen Through The Eyes Of
The Women Who Lived Through It

by Rochelle Ramga

The American Civil War is often described as the first modern war, a war not only between armed men in battle, but total war waged upon the ability of the enemy nation to make war. Total war rains destruction upon the unarmed civilians in their homes, factories and fields. It is war that destroys the lives of women and children unable to fight in their own defense. Hundreds of diaries were written during the Civil War. This essay will present six women caught in total war. They write of their pride in their own new nation and its soldiers and their outrage at the nation and soldiers who destroyed them and then expected their loyalty. Armed conflict may end on the battlefield, but total war waged on civilians caught in the anger and frustration of defenselessness does not end in surrender or peace agreements. These unarmed women are responsible for raising the next generation, whose loyalty to the federal government will be expected. These six women are Cornelia McDonald, Kate Stone, Emma Holmes, Sarah Morgan, Kate Cumming, and Emma LeConte, each leaving us her diary of the tragic Civil War years.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             The article is too long to post in its entirety. You can read the rest of it at this link:

http://civilwarinteractive.com/ArticleSouthernWomenRecord.htm



Terry

[Belle]

Thanks for your great contributions Terry!

Belle~

[Belle]

Sometime around the beginning of 1863, Louisa Volker became a member of the Military Telegraph Corps of the Union army. She probably volunteered for the position as Military Telegrapher, and was accepted due to the shortage of telegraph operators in the area. The only surviving written account of her work as a Military Telegrapher appears in Plum's book, The Military Telegraph During the Civil War in the United States, where Plum discusses the situation in southeastern Missouri in the summer of 1863.

About seven months previous, Miss Louisa E. Volker, a most estimable young lady, had relieved C. T. Barrett, operator at Mineral Point, and became at once not only the first lady operator in the corps, west of the Mississippi, but the only operatrix who had ever telegraphed on that side of the river. Entering upon duties which, heretofore, had devolved exclusively upon young men, she realized that peculiar feeling of responsibility which arises from an important but experimental trust, and hence, with all the zeal of a leader, she undertook the fulfillment of this new role of feminine usefulness in war. . .
On a former occasion, the station six miles north of the Point was attacked by cavalry, surprising Captain Lippencott's company, which being driven off, collected at Mineral Point. Miss Volker had previously ascertained the presence of the enemy and telegraphed to Pilot Knob the situation, and started the repairer north to mend the line if possible, which was actually accomplished during the night, she sitting by the instrument all night in expectation of an attack on Mineral Point.

Under normal civilian conditions in the big cities of the east, women operators were generally not expected to work nights, as it was not considered proper for unescorted women to be out at night; some telegraph companies even used this as a justification for preferentially hiring men. However, women operators in the West, and especially railroad operators, were frequently required to work nights, as they had to be present whenever trains passed the station.

In November 1863, while she was serving as a Military Telegrapher, Louisa Volker transferred ownership of a block of land and several lots in Mineral Point to Augustus Rauschenbach of St. Louis, who was the husband of her sister Sarah, and trustee for her mother, Emily. She may have transferred ownership of the land to prevent it from falling into the hands of the Confederates, in the event that she was captured. Her telegraphic skills made her a strategic target; Confederate raiders often kidnapped the local telegrapher when they invaded a town, and forced him or her to listen for intelligence, or even send false reports to confuse the enemy. However, her desire to protect the family's property led her to remain in Mineral Point, together with an unidentified sister, during Confederate General Sterling Price's raid into southern Missouri in September 1864.

On September 19, 1864, Price crossed over from Arkansas into Missouri at the head of a force of about 12,000 men. His plan was to capture St. Louis and Jefferson City, and install a secessionist government; he erroneously believed that the majority of the state's inhabitants were Confederate sympathizers, and would come to his support.

One of Price's primary targets was the town of Pilot Knob, which is located approximately eighty-five miles south of St. Louis. In addition to being the southern terminus of the St. Louis and Iron Mountain Railroad, Pilot Knob had Union supply depots and iron works that were considered vital to the defense of the region. Pilot Knob was defended by a Federal garrison of about 1500 men who were stationed at nearby Fort Davidson.

Union forces under the command of Major General A. J. Smith were encamped in the area of Mineral Point. Smith's primary task was to defend the railroad link against attack by Confederates, who sporadically attacked the trains. Louisa Volker found herself in a position of great strategic importance as the only telegraph operator in the vicinity. Plum's account continues:

At Mineral Point, sixty-one miles from St. Louis and twenty-five north of the Knob, a good part of General Smith's command was concentrated to meet a portion of Price's troops expected there. Smith called in his out-posts, planted his guns and awaited attack. A train laden with soldiers and refugees, including the Irondale operator, was delayed in consequence of injury done the road near the Point. The attack on the train which followed was repulsed, the track repaired, and the train saved. By this time the woods were filled with Confederates, and picket firing began. Miss Louisa Volker, operating at the Point, having been at her instrument continuously for two days and nights, was relieved by the Irondale operator.

Price had originally intended to attack St. Louis. Sensing this, Union General W. S. Rosecrans, who commanded the Department of Missouri from headquarters in St. Louis, ordered General Smith to move in the direction of St. Louis to reinforce his position. Hearing of this, Price then made Fort Davidson, near Pilot Knob, his main target; he also began to destroy the rail and telegraph links to St. Louis, to prevent their being used to send any more reinforcements. Price sent units under General Joseph Shelby to accomplish this; by the morning of September 27, Shelby had succeeded in destroying the railroad tracks just south of Mineral Point, and in cutting the telegraph wires, thus isolating the Federal garrison at Fort Davidson. Confederate Colonel B. Frank Gordon was then ordered to attack Mineral Point. General Smith had been ordered to fall back toward St. Louis, leaving Mineral Point defenseless against attack. Plum gave this account of the invasion of Mineral Point.

At noon of the twenty-eighth, General Smith was telegraphed to fall back, and by three, P.M., the last train started. Every male citizen, fearing conscription, left also. Miss Volker and sister remained to protect their father's home from destruction. After hiding all evidences of her employment, and placing a pistol in her pocket, with a fixed purpose of defending herself and sister against violence, she overlooked the little village from her window, and discovered Confederate cavalrymen, ragged and dirty, with "lean and hungry" looks, suddenly possess the place and begin their ravenous search for food, not to mention their hunt for plunder.

This rabble was composed of men, barefooted, but spurred; others clothed in gaudy-colored curtain damask; all manner of hats and caps; some in Federal uniform, and strapped to their saddles was all kinds of plunder--calico, domestic, shoes, boots, tin pans, bed quilts, etc. Volker's house was soon filled by men who stole blankets and clothing, and helped themselves to the edibles at the same time. Miss Volker now discovered the depot, tank and engine-house in flames. Mineral Point and Coles bridges were also destroyed. By five o'clock, the enemy had all passed north, and the silence that prevailed in that deserted village was more trying than the presence of the dreaded enemy... Night approached, and darkness and imagination multiplied terrors in Volker's house, at least. The two young ladies, armed with pistol and their father's shot-gun, stood in the center of a room, still as death, listening intently. Morning brought report that St. Louis was captured. Not long after, an unfounded rumor that Indians had deluged Potosi in blood, stampeded the women and children from the Point.

The rumors were totally unfounded. Fort Davidson's defenders, under the command of Union Brigadier General Thomas Ewing Jr., successfully repulsed the first attack by the Confederates; they then slipped out of the fort and rode toward Rolla, Missouri, after blowing up the powder magazine. Price, unaware that the defenders had left, mounted a second attack at dusk on September 27, and, to his embarassment, found the fort empty when his troops entered it. Price then turned westward, and finally returned to Arkansas in December, having failed to achieve any of his strategic objectives.

Plum's account of Louisa Volker's work as a Military Telegrapher ended rather dramatically at this point; he gave no further information on Louisa Volker's life after the war. However, a search of archives in Washington County, Jefferson City, and St. Louis, Missouri, yielded information on her later activities.

During the war, Louisa Volker made the acquaintance of Thomas Hanlon Macklind, a lawyer and civil engineer in Potosi, Missouri. He had been born in Ireland and came to the United States with his parents, who settled in Pittsburgh. He was educated at the Franklin Institute as a civil engineer, and moved to Missouri in 1856, where he participated in the construction of the St. Louis and Iron Mountain Railroad. While at Potosi, he studied law, and was admitted to the bar in 1860. In 1861, he and several other pro-Union men of Potosi organized a volunteer unit, the Twelfth Missouri Cavalry of the Missouri State Militia, for defense against local Confederate sympathizers. The unit participated in several battles in southeast Missouri, and Macklind was promoted from Second Lieutenant to Captain.

In May 1865, Captain Macklind and Louisa Volker were married in St. Louis. They moved to St. Louis, where Macklind became an engineer with the Street Department. Macklind continued to be connected with the Street Department until his death in 1904. They had two sons -- William R, who was born in 1869, and Thomas V., who was born in 1880.

Louisa Macklind evidently gave up telegraphy after her marriage. However, she took an interest in a field that was just beginning to be open to women in the 1870's - stenography. Prior to the Civil War, most clerical work was performed by men; only with the employment of women by the Treasury Department during the Civil War did women begin to enter the field of general office work. It is likely that her background in telegraphy led to her interest in stenography; good penmanship, a high degree of literacy, and excellent spelling skills were basic requirements for telegraphers as well as stenographers.

Louisa Macklind died on May 21, 1905, at the age of 68. Her obituary appeared in the May 22 St. Louis Post Dispatch under the heading, "First Woman War Telegrapher Dead". Cause of death was listed as senile debility, aggravated by ulcers. She was buried in Bellefontaine Cemetery, in the same plot with her husband and parents.

The only female Military Telegrapher other than Louisa Volker to receive a certificate of Honorable Service under the Congressional Act of January 26, 1897, was Mary E. Smith Buell, of Norwich, New York. Nothing is known of her service during the Civil War; she is listed in Plum's roster of Military Telegraphers in The Military Telegraph During the Civil War in the United States as "Mary E. Smith." She lived in Norwich, New York, and was admitted to the Society of the United States Military Telegraph Corps in 1909, shortly before her death at the age of seventy-eight on May 24.

"Real courage is when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what." ~Harper Lee~


"Women Telegraph Operators in the Civil War"
 

[Belle]

An ambulance wagon was often used in caring for, and transporting injured soldiers (Source: Library of Congress)

Mary A. Ellis, Missouri

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."

"~Anyone who limits her vision to memories of yesterday is already dead." ~Lily Langtry~

"Women of the Civil War"

[Belle]

M. V. Harkin, Fond du Lac, Wisconsin

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)

"Aspect are within us, and who seems most kingly is king." ~Thomas Hardy~

"Women in the Civil War"