The October 3rd, 1886 issue of the Boston Globe told the story of a brave woman, Josie Miller, who baked bread and nursed wounded soldiers during the Battle of Gettysburg during the Civil War. Subsequently, Miller and some of the soldiers she tended to reunited in 1886.
On July 1st, 1863, Major General Daniel Sickles and his Third Corps marched to relieve the First Corps, who was engaged with the Confederate Army. Following a forced march to engage in the battle, some of the soldiers discovered Miller, her disabled mother, and her grandmother baking bread. The mother forgot her partially forgot her infirmities and was helping. They fed the Union soldiers. They had refused to leave when evacuation orders came down.
From the Globe:
“Twenty four hours before Josie Miller and her mother, for the first time, saw the men of war, and it was the first intimation to them that the armies were approaching her house, Josie Miller, in her childish way, thought it was grand to have the soldiers come, for it brought something to break the monotony of her quiet life, but she little thought that right there, on soil her youthful feet had trod, was to be fought a battle which was to decide whether the republican form of government was to survive, or the people be ruled from thrones. In 1861, Josie Miller and her mothers had seen their neighbors leave their homes to defend the country, they had heard of their sufferings and mourned when some neighbor’s husband or son was reported “killed in action;” and in these July days of 1863, they saw the boys and grown men of their acquaintance when they came back to drive the invader from the soil of the Keystone State.”
“These were the women whom the “First Massachusetts” soldiers saw that morning in their humble home. “I think some of the bread must be done now,” said Josie, as she scraped the dough from one of her hands, and taking a candle which had little life left, she led the way to the room or shed where the stove was. This place was very small and was used partly for storage and for cooking purposes. The boys followed her and found the stove to be what looked like an old-fashioned “air-tight,” which is now out of date in the north, but considerable used in the Southern and Middle States where wood is plenty. It had long, lanky legs, an iron hearth, and the smoke passed up in the front part of the stove and into a pipe and thence out through a hole in the roof.”
Scores of other soldiers came to get bread and water in between the fighting at Gettysburg, including Colonel Baldwin, who commanded the First Massachusetts Regiment in question. When he suggested they should evacuate, Josie, her mother, and her grandmother refused, saying, “Where should we go?”
Throughout the fighting, Miller and her family tended to the wounded soldiers. When a high ranking officer came by and attempted to order then to leave, Josie refused, saying, as she was staunching the bleeding of a soldier wounded in action, that if she could help one wounded man, it would be worth it.
More than once, the fighting came close to the house and the Millers took cover in the cellar. Men died there, but not for lack of care on the Millers’ part. The bullet and shell marks were still in the house 23 years after the fact.
Miller survived the conflict, married, and moved out west. In 1886, many of the surviving soldiers of the Third Army Corps had a reunion to dedicate monuments of several regiments who had fought. She came back and the following poem was read in her honor:
Above the din of the conflict,
A voice, like a melody ran,
The cheering words of a woman,
Best friend and supporter of man.
As the last at the cross upon Calvary,
The first at the tomb of her Lord,
We hail thee a sister, sweet maiden,
We men of the gun and the sword.
You fought not, like her of Orleans,
But you succored us, tender and true;
And we sing in your praise this faint paean,
O, maid of the red, white, and blue.
For, though fiercely the storm raged around you,
Of missile and bullet and shell,
You stood by the flag of your country,
And whispered that all would be well.
And the name of staunch Josephine Miller,
Adorn the far ages shall ring,
As long as this stone tells its story,
And as long as the poet shall sing.
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