Brave Woman Baked Bread, Nursed Soldiers During Gettysburg

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 The boys followed her and found the stove to be what looked like an old-fashioned “air-tight,” which is now out of date in the north, but considerable used in the Southern and Middle States where wood is plenty.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.

Sullivan Ballou’s Last Letter to His Wife Read at Isadora Memorial Day Service

This year, for the annual Memorial Day service at Isadora, Jeshua Blaine, who himself is serving in the military and is about to undergo officer training, read a letter by Sullivan Ballou to his wife shortly before the Battle of Manassas, the first major battle of the Civil War:

My Very Dear Wife:

Indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days, perhaps to-morrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write a few 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 battle-field for any 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 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 care 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 this hazarding the happiness of those I loved, and I could not find one. A pure love of my country, and of the principles I 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 with mighty cables, that nothing but Omnipotence can break; and yet, my love of country comes over me like a strong wind, and bears me irresistibly on with all those chains, to the battlefield. The memories of all the blissful moments I have spent with you come crowding over me, and I feel most deeply grateful to God and you, that I have enjoyed them so long. And how 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 boys grow up to honorable manhood around us.

I know I have but few 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, nor that, when my last breath escapes me on the battle-field, it will whisper your name.

Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless, how foolish I have oftentimes 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 the darkest night amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours always, always, and, if the soft breeze fans your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air cools your throbbing temples, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dear; think I am gone, and wait for me, 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, I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.

- Sullivan

Mr. Ballou’s premonitions were true. He was one of the first people killed in the Civil War, in the Battle of Manassas. He had given up a successful career in law and politics in order to fight in the Civil War. He was a successful attorney in Rhode Island and had served as Speaker of the House. But then President Abraham Lincoln called for volunteers following the Battle of Fort Sumter, and Mr. Ballou enlisted in the 2nd Rhode Island Infantry, where he became a Major.

Jeshua Blaine said that it was duty that drove people to fight and die for their country. He said they had a value system that valued God, family, and country and that they all acted accordingly. As soldiers, they had a duty to the people around them, and to bear one another’s burdens. They were only as strong as the person next to them in the foxhole. 

Civil War Soldier Reunited With Wife After Long Separation

The October 4th, 1906 Worth County Times ran this story of a Civil War Veteran who reunited with his wife after a search of many years.

A small house a few miles out of Cartersville (GA) is the house of Mrs. James Smith, whose mother lives with her. A few days ago, an old man entered the door and placing a bundle on the floor said to the young matron, “Anybody sick here?”

“No. Why do you ask that?”

“Because I’m a traveling doctor. Where is your mother?”

“She is in the other room.”

“Tell her to come out,” said the man, eagerly, and when the woman responded to the call, the visitor advanced and held out his hand, saying, “Howdy, Rusha.”

When she pulled away slightly he added, “Don’t be frightened. I’m your husband, Anderson Pittman.” A cry of surprise and a long embrace followed.

Anderson Pittman, young and handsome, made Jerusha Ballew his wife just before the Civil War, and a daughter was born to them. While the daughter was still a baby, Pittman entered the Confederate Army as a member of Capt. John Porter’s company, in the 24th Georgia Infantry, which was under Longstreet in Virginia.

According to his story, Pittman was captured by the 25th New York Cavalry on September 17th in Wood County (VA). He was carried north and remained in a New York prison until the close of the war.

Believing him dead, Ballew married Beaton Whitecotton, who was subsequently killed in a fight with revenue officers in the mountains of Northeast Georgia. They had reared a considerable family of children.

As above stated, the wife was found in her widowhood at the home of her daughter, who was a daughter of Whitecotton. Old man Pittman is 83 years old; his wife is probable 10 years younger. They both look spry for their age.

The old man said, “Why they seem to be making as much over me as they would old General Grant. Well, they thought they would wear my poor life out in the prison, but I thank God there is a little of it left for me to enjoy with my family.”

“I’ve got 120 acres of land that they got of mine because they supposed I was dead, which I am going to recover through the law, and I hope to settle down on it and be happy, and I must have that daughter in Alabama with me that I gave the name of “Adeline” before the war got me.

Donald Trump Set to Give Speech at Site of Civil War Battle -- That Didn't Happen

Red State is fast jumping on the #NeverHillaryNeverTrump bandwagon. Today, they reported that Donald Trump will give a speech at the Trump National Golf Club in Sterling (VA). It is being billed as a major policy speech against Hillary Clinton. The golf course contains a monument to a civil war battle and labels that are of the Potomac River, “The River of Blood.” Told that civil war historians were saying that there was no battle there, Trump was quoted on Twitter by National Review’s Liam Donovan as saying, “How would they know? They were not there.”

Trump shows off his “expertise” as a “historian:”

“That was a prime site for river crossings,” Mr. Trump said. “So, if people are crossing the river, and you happen to be in a civil war, I would say that people were shot — a lot of them.”

The club does indeed lie a stone’s throw from Rowser’s Ford, where, as an official historical marker notes, Gen. J. E. B. Stuart led 5,000 Confederate troops including cavalry across the Potomac en route to the Battle of Gettysburg.

But no one died in that crossing, historians said, or in any other notable Civil War engagement on the spot.

There really was such a place called the River of Blood. Except that it happens to be Georgia and it was known as the Battle of Chickamauga.

Early on the morning of September_19, 1863 Col. Daniel McCook was ordered to give William S, Rosecrans army a little more protection as it moved north towardsChattanooga, Tennessee by destroying Reed's Bridge over Chickamauga Creek. As McCook advanced he brushed up against the extreme rear of Confederate General Bushrod Johnson's division.

Shortly after midnight McCook set the bridge on fire and reported a brigade of Rebels in the area to George Henry Thomas. What McCook thought was a brigade of Rebels was actually the extreme rear of Longstreet's Corps. General John Croxton was sent forward to flush out McCook's "Rebel brigade" and at 9:00am wired Thomas from Jay's Mill, "Which of the 4 or 5 Rebel brigades do you want me to flush out?" The battle of Chickamauga had begun.

Senior Union officers thought that the Confederates were still east of Chickamauga Creek and were shocked when they finally realized the majority of the Confederates under Braxton Bragg were already across the creek.

Neither side had planned for this battle, yet it was one of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War. But Donald Trump is a showman, not a historian, and for him, the show must go on.