Tag Archives: Medicine

“March Madness”: American Civil War Style

The phrase, “Dum Tacent Clamant” (“While they are silent, they cry aloud”), is inscribed on the Grand Army of the Republic monument at the Chalmette National Cemetery in Louisiana (G.A.R. Monument, Chalmette National Cemetery, circa 1910, U.S. Library of Congress, public domain).

For many Americans, the phrase “March Madness” conjures visions of college life or good times spent with friends at sports bars, cheering on favorite teams as future NBA All Stars steal and dunk their way through basketball championships en route to fame and fortune. But a very real form of “madness” affected Americans during the American Civil War — and it was a devastating experience for many of the boys and men who were forced to endure it by circumstances that were largely out of their control. That condition, which was referred to by physicians as nostalgia, was known to cause feelings of “despair and homesickness so severe that soldiers became listless and emaciated and sometimes died,” according to the late journalist Tony Horwitz, and it affected multiple members of the 47th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry throughout the regiment’s long and storied history.

“Though geographically less distant from home than soldiers in foreign wars, most Civil War servicemen were farm boys, in their teens and early 20s, who had rarely if ever traveled far from family and familiar surrounds….”

Horowitz’s description of young Civil War-era soldiers was particularly true for the teenagers and young men who served with the 47th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry. Among the most distantly located of Union Army troops, many were transported from farms and small towns across Pennsylvania to Virginia in 1861 — and then down to America’s Deep South as the war raged on toward its second year. Initially stationed at Fort Taylor in Key West, Florida during the late winter of 1862, they were subsequently transferred to South Carolina, and were then moved back and forth between Florida and South Carolina between the fall of 1862 and mid-February 1864 as they engaged in the capture of Saint John’s Bluff, Florida, the Battle of Pocotaligo, South Carolina, the capture of Jacksonville, Florida, and the garrisoning of Fort Taylor in Key West and of Fort Jefferson in Florida’s Dry Tortugas — the latter of which was a duty station that was about as far south as any American could travel in the United States.

And then they were shipped west to Louisiana to fight in the Union’s 1864 Red River Campaign, during which time they made history as the only regiment from Pennsylvania to take part in that campaign — a series of intense military engagements in which more than a dozen 47th Pennsylvania Volunteers would be captured by Confederate troops and force marched to Texas, only to be held in deplorable conditions as prisoners of war at Camp Ford — the largest Confederate POW camp west of the Mississippi River. Several never made it out alive; those who did were never the same.

Even more damaging were the horrific conditions experienced by a far larger group of 47th Pennsylvania Volunteers who were taken prisoner in Virginia roughly six months later, including First Sergeant William Fry (1836-1865) of Company C and Corporal James Huff (1835-1865) of Company E, who were both captured during the Battle of Cedar Creek and then dragged away to the two most infamous POW camps in the Confederacy. Sergeant Fry, who “was paroled [on March 4, 1865], only to ‘come home to die’ from starvation and slow poison — the victim [at Andersonville] of atrocities such as have only been practiced by the traitors to our own government, and from which savages would turn in disgust,” died three weeks later at his mother’s home (on March 28, 1865), according to the 15 April 1865 edition of The Sunbury American, while Corporal Huff lost his will to live on March 5, 1865, after suffering through months of the mental and physical torment of starvation that he endured at Salisbury. (His body was then thrown into an unmarked trench grave there with those of thousands of other Union POWs, and was never able to be identified.)

War-Induced Trauma

“A Southern ‘Slaughter House'” depicted the suffering of Union soldiers at the Confederacy’s Salisbury Prison Camp (Charles S. Greene, Sparks from the Campfire, 1889, public domain).

While it is true that the majority of 47th Pennsylvania Volunteers managed to avoid being killed or imprisoned as POWs, it is also true that a significant number of them suffered serious emotional trauma — either personally because they were wounded or became ill as a direct result of their military service, or vicariously — because they saw one of their comrades fall in battle or watched as a sibling or friend succumbed to disease-related complications at a Union Army hospital. So, it’s often heartbreaking for present-day descendants to read diary entries and letters that were penned by their 47th Pennsylvania ancestors as they tried to convey their thoughts in shaky, cursive handwriting while cycling between happy memories of home, their hope for better days and their profound feelings of bewilderment, grief and despair.

While scribbling one such letter during church services on Sunday, December 29, 1861, for example, Private Abraham N. Wolf told his wife that the 47th Pennsylvania’s Regimental Band was playing a hymn at that moment, and went on to state, with childlike wonder and incandescent joy, that he’d received the gift box she’d sent him, adding “everything was in it yet what you said was in it and it came on the second day of Christmas.” But his words then turned bittersweet as he reported that he had already “fried some of the sausages” that she’d sent him in order to take with him for dinner as he headed out for duty to chop wood for the regiment. “They tasted pretty good to me for it was something new to me for it was from home.”

The next year, homesickness and grief darkened the holidays for a very pensive Henry Hornbeck, as evidenced by this diary notation:

“How different this Christmas from last year when all was Joy at home. Mary & myself for the sake of a Joyful surprise, placed upon the plate (before Breakfast) of Dear Mother, a Christmas Gift, and how pleased she was for that present, which was entirely unexpected. Now, alas, she is no more, never more are we to see her in this world. No one who has not lost a dearly beloved Mother, can feel that loss or have the least idea of what the loss of his or her dearest friend on earth is, until he or she experiences what we have, Standing at the death bed of a dying parent, and to feel as we felt, alone in this wide world…. Retrospection is often times pleasing and also horrifying. I wish you a Merry Christmas.”

The Consequences of Untreated Suffering

Placed by loved ones at the Bloomfield Cemetery in Perry County, Pennsylvania, this gravestone expresses the hope that the heart of 47th Pennsylvania veteran Ephraim Clouser is no longer distressed (public domain; click to enlarge).

One of the many heartbreaking truths of the American Civil War era is that soldiers who were battling depression or other mental health issues rarely received sympathy or support from their superior officers because those officers were advised by military physicians to respond harshly, rather than with compassion, to any behavior that might be perceived — or misperceived — as “malingering.” That surprising guidance was given by those surgeons because they had received medical school training which had taught them that any failure to shake off feelings of homesickness, sadness or grief was a sign of “weakness” or a “character flaw” rather than a symptom of a legitimate disease that required prompt and ongoing treatment. According to Horwitz:

“Military and medical officials recognized nostalgia as a serious ‘camp disease,’ but generally blamed it on ‘feeble will,’ ‘moral turpitude’ and inactivity in camp. Few sufferers were discharged or granted furloughs, and the recommended treatment was drilling and shaming of ‘nostalgic’ soldiers.”

In more than a few cases, the untreated or poorly-treated nostalgia experienced by 47th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantrymen became so severe that it broke the hearts of those 47th Pennsylvanians — figuratively and then literally — as it led to the development of damaging heart or brain diseases that would later be termed “Soldier’s Heart” or “PTSD” (post-traumatic stress disorder).

One of the earliest casualties of that sub-standard treatment was Private Adolph Finster of the 47th Pennsylvania’s A Company, who ended his life by suicide in Key West, Florida on May 15, 1863. A twenty-five-year-old who had been employed as a clerk in Easton prior to the war, Private Finster was subsequently buried in grave number 180 “of the Key West Post Cemetery,” according to historian Lewis Schmidt.

Another was D Company Private Ephraim Clouser, who was hospitalized for months at one Union Army hospital after another, following his release from captivity as a POW on November 25, 1864. (Shot in the knee during the Battle of Pleasant Hill, Louisiana on April 9th, he had been force marched to Camp Ford in Texas, where he had then been subjected to starvation and dangerously unsanitary living conditions). Awarded a U.S. Civil War soldier’s invalid pension in 1866, he was then diagnosed with dementia (1868), described as “an insane veteran” by his hometown newspaper (1896) and “jailed as a dangerous character” (1898), before he was finally committed to the Pennsylvania State Lunatic Asylum (later known as the Harrisburg State Hospital).

Two of the other post-war casualties were William H. Sieger, a field musician from Company G, who died by suicide eight years after receiving his honorable discharge and eleven days after his twenty-ninth birthday, and Daniel Battaglia, a Swiss immigrant who served as a private with Adolph Finster in Company A and later battled mental health issues for decades before he was finally committed to the “Government Hospital for the Insane” (later known as St. Elizabeths Hospital) in Washington, D.C. — forty-five years after receiving his honorable discharge.

Still others, who managed to survive and be welcomed home with huzzahs and hearty backslaps after the war, seemed “just fine” to neighbors and co-workers but, in reality, were actually suffering greatly from physical or mental illnesses that would plague them for the remainder of their days — quiet casualties of a war that continued to claim lives more than half a century after it ended.

* Note: To see an image and read more of Abraham Wolf’s letter, read the article, “1861: Abraham Nicholas Wolf, Jr. to Sarah (Trexler) Wolf,” by Spared and Shared.

 

Sources:

  1. Da Costa, Jacob Mendez. “Observations on the diseases of the heart noticed among soldiers, particularly the organic diseases,” in Contributions relating to the Causation and Prevention of Disease, and to Camp Diseases; together with a Report of the Diseases, etc., Among the Prisoners at Andersonville, GA. New York: United States Sanitary Commission and Hurd and Houghton, 1867.
  2. Da Costa, Jacob Mendez. “On Irritable Heart; a Clinical Study of a Form of Functional Cardiac Disorder and Its Consequences: Result in Two Hundred Cases,” in The American Journal of the Medical Sciences, vol. 61, no. 121, p. 17. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Henry C. Lea, 1871.
  3. Friedman, Matthew J. “History of PTSD in Veterans: Civil War to DSM-5.” Washington, D.C.: National Center for PTSD, U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, retrieved online, March 23, 2026.
  4. Greene, Lieutenant-Colonel Charles S. Sparks from the Campfire: Thrilling Stories of Heroism, Adventure, Daring and Suffering, Re-Told by the Boys Who Were There. New York: W. A. Houghton, 1889.
  5. Horwitz, Tony. “Did Civil War Soldiers Have PTSD?“, in Smithsonian Magazine. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, January 2015.
  6. Pollard, Harvey, Chittari Shivakumari, et.al. “‘Soldier’s Heart’: A Genetic Basis for Elevated Cardiovascular Disease Risk Associated with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,” in Frontiers in Neuromolecular Science, September 23, 2016. Switzerland: Frontiers Research Foundation.
  7. “Resolutions of Condolence” (report regarding the death of former Andersonville prisoner of war, Sergeant William Fry, at his home in Sunbury). Sunbury, Pennsylvania: The Sunbury American, April 15, 1865.
  8. Schmidt, Lewis G. A Civil War History of the 47th Regiment of Pennsylvania Veteran Volunteers. Allentown, Pennsylvania: Self-published, 1986.

 

The Battle of Pocotaligo, South Carolina: Unpredictable Outcomes

“The Commencement of the Battle near Pocotaligo River” (Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, October 1862, public domain; click to enlarge).

And among them Strife and Tumult joined, and destructive Fate, grasping one man alive, fresh-wounded, another without a wound, and another she dragged dead through the melee by the feet; and the raiment she had about her shoulders was red with the blood of men. Just like living mortals joined they and fought; and they each were dragging away the bodies of the others’ slain.”

—Homer, The Iliad, Volume II, Book 18

 

October 22, 1862 was a deadly day for the 47th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, and the succeeding days throughout that month and beyond proved to be deadlier still, as one member of the regiment after another succumbed to the wounds they had sustained in battle—or to complications that arose from the multiple surgeries that had been performed by Union Army surgeons in valiant, but vain attempts to save their lives.

Excerpt from “A Golden Thread” (John Melhuish Strudwick, circa 1885, public domain).

What will be striking to any student of history engaged in even just a cursory review of this regiment’s medical and death records during this period of American Civil War-era service, is the seeming fickleness of who lived or died—as if Lachesis and Atropos had debated and determined their fates while Clotho spun out the thread of each life, giving them no say in their individual destinies.

Or was it the decision-making mind and finger of God? “You, but not you.”

This randomness dawns with startling clarity when examining the vastly different outcomes of Sunbury, Pennsylvania brothers, Samuel and Peter Haupt, and of company commanding officers Charles Mickley, George Junker and William Wallace Geety.

Captain Charles Mickley of G Company was killed instantly, early on in the Battle of Pocotaligo on October 22, 1862—brought swiftly to the ground by a rifle shot to his head. He never knew what hit him—or what happened to the men of his company who were marching head on with him into an intense barrage of canister and grape shot, mingled with rifle fire and artillery shell shrapnel.

Captain George Junker of Company K was felled by a minié ball fired from a Confederate rifle during his company’s advance on the Frampton Plantation. Initially stabilized in the field before being transported back to Hilton Head, where he was hospitalized at the Union Army’s post hospital, he died there the next day. He, too, had been shot in the head.

But First Lieutenant William Wallace Geety miraculously survived the gunshot that he sustained to his head—despite having been initially described by The New York Times in its list of Pocotaligo casualties as “mortally wounded.” His survival subsequently became the subject of multiple newspaper reports and medical journal articles. According to the Commemorative Biographical Encyclopedia of Dauphin County, he was wounded in action when “grape shot struck him between the eyes and passing to the left destroyed the eye, shattered the bones of the face, injuring the nerves and lodged near the carotid artery. While lying upon the field he was for a while given up for dead.”

The Union Army surgeons who treated him throughout his convalescence provided even more telling and precise accounts, documenting that William W. Geety had been struck between the eyes by a one-half-inch-diameter iron ball propelled by a cannon shrapnel shell which had exploded on impact in front of him while he was commanding his men on the field. As the shrapnel peppered the air around him, the ball traveled upward through his head before striking the back of his skull, where it then reversed course, traveled down toward his left jaw and neck, and lodged behind the carotid artery. In the process, his left eye was destroyed along with nerve sensation on his left neck and face, which was also disfigured. When battlefield surgeons realized that one of the major fragments was located perilously close to his carotid artery and could not be removed without killing their patient, they opted to leave that piece of shrapnel in place, stabilized Geety, and continued to care for him until he could safely be moved to one of the Union’s larger and better equipped hospitals for more advanced treatment.

Finally well enough to pen a letter home to his wife and children on November 19, 1864, Geety wrote:

I have lost my left eye, the base of the nose has been taken out. My jaw has been splintered besides some other bones about the brain being cracked. I am very thankful that I got through so safely, as my life was despared [sic] of at first.

In later accounts, he recalled that the grapeshot had struck him near the bottom of his nose, and “after knocking a piece out of my skull, turned and lodged in my throat against the carotid artery from whence I had it cut, at the same time part of the casing of the shell struck me in the face, making a longitudinal cut across my left eye, breaking the lower jaw, and staving in the upper jaw bone on the right side of the face. The socket for the lower jaw to work is broken off, so that every time I open my mouth the jaw flies out of joint.”

Astoundingly ambulatory just a month after the battle, he continued to receive medical care at the Union Officers’ Hospital in Beaufort, South Carolina, and was actually able to walk around the city under his own power.

* For more information about what happened to First Lieutenant William W. Geety after he was released from the Union Army’s hospital in South Carolina, read “First Lieutenant William W. Geety — Battling Back from a Nearly Fatal Head Wound.”

But a Foot Wound Was Fatal?

Atropos, one of the Three Fates in Greek mythology, cuts the thread of life (bas relief image, public domain).

Also wounded that same day, but seemingly less seriously than their commanding officers had been, were the Haupt brothers of the 47th Pennsylvania’s C Company (the color-bearer unit). Private Samuel Haupt was struck in the chin—presumably by one of the countless artillery shell fragments flying through the air as the enemy unleashed a barrage of cannon fire on their company as it advanced toward its target—while his brother, Sergeant Peter Haupt, was struck in the foot that had been fired by a musket or rifle ball.

Sam survived, but Peter did not.

A seemingly minor wound, ballistic injuries to a foot are often extremely painful and traumatic—even today. According to the editors of Ballistic Trauma: A Practical Guide, “There are three mechanisms whereby a projectile can cause tissue injury:

  1. In a low-energy transfer wound, the projectile crushes and lacerates tissue along the track of the projectile, causing a permanent cavity. In addition, bullet and bone fragments can act as secondary missiles, increasing the volume of tissue crushed.
  2. In a high-energy transfer wound, the projectile may impel the walls of the wound track [and] radially outwards, causing a temporary cavity lasting 5 to 10 milliseconds before its collapse in addition to the permanent mechanical disruption produced….
  3. In wounds where the firearm’s muzzle is in contact with the skin at the time of firing, tissues are forced aside by the gases expelled from the barrel of the fire, causing a localized blast injury.”

In Peter Haupt’s case, the high degree of damage to his foot was compounded by the fact that his wound was caused by a musket or minié ball that was made of lead—a substance known to cause blood poisoning and damage to human tissue and organs—and likely also by surgical procedures that were less than sterile, which resulted in a subsequent infection. His cause of death at the Union Army’s post hospital at Hilton Head, South Carolina on November 14, 1862—just over three weeks after the battle—was “traumatic tetanus,” according to the Union Army’s Registers of Deaths of Volunteer soldiers.

The Consequences of Human Conflict

Random, divergent and seemingly senseless fates.

Whether determined by the finger of God, the pre-battle machinations of the Moirai of Greek mythology, or the sheer dumb luck of being positioned at precisely the wrong spot in the regiment’s line of march that terrible day, the final outcomes of the 47th Pennsylvanians who did or did not make it home stand as a testament to the often inexplicable and heartbreaking nature of war.

 

Sources:

  1. “A Soldier’s Death” (obituary of Captain W. W. Geety). Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: Harrisburg Telegraph, 20 January 1887.
  2. Affidavit Regarding Peter Haupt’s Death (written by Second Lieutenant Daniel Oyster on August 14, 1863 and certified by Captain John Peter Shindel Gobin on August 20, 1863, Company C, 47th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, Fort Taylor, Key West, Florida). Washington, D.C.: Officer of the United States Commissioner of Pensions.
  3. Burial Ledgers, in Record Group 15, The National Cemetery Administration, and Record Group 92, United States Departments of Defense and Army (Quartermaster General). Washington, D.C.: U.S. National Archives and Records Administration: 1861-1865.
  4. Commemorative Biographical Encyclopedia of Dauphin County, Containing Sketches of Representative Citizens, and Many of the Early Scotch-Irish and German Settlers. Chambersburg, Pennsylvania: J. M. Runk & Company, 1896.
  5. “Extraordinary Case” (account of the injury and treatment of William Wallace Geety). Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: Patriot & Union, June 12, 1863.
  6. Haupt, Peter, in Registers of Deaths of Volunteer Soldiers, United States Army, 1862. Washington, D.C.: U.S. National Archives and Records Administration.
  7. Homer, The Iliad, II, Book 18 (A. T. Murray, translator). Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1924.
  8. Junker, George, in Registers of Deaths of Volunteer Soldiers, United States Army, 1862. Washington, D.C.: U.S. National Archives and Records Administration.
  9. “Lead Toxicity: Biological Fate,” in “Environmental Health and Medicine.” Atlanta, Georgia: Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry, United States Centers for Disease Control, May 2023.
  10. Letter from Captain James Kacy from Beaufort, South Carolina, October 25, 1862, regarding H Company casualties sustained during the Battle of Pocotaligo, South Carolina, October 22, 1862. Bloomfield, Pennsylvania: The Perry County Democrat, November 6, 1862.
  11. “List of Casualties: Forty-Seventh Pennsylvania Volunteers—Col. T. H. Good.” New York, New York: The New York Times, October 29, 1862.
  12. Mahoney, Peter F., James Ryan, et. al. Ballistic Trauma: A Practical Guide, Second Edition, pp. 31-66, 91-121, 168-179, 356-395, 445-464, 535-540, 596-605. London, England: Springer-Verlag London Limited, 2005.
  13. Reimer, Terry. “Wounds, Ammunition, and Amputation.” Frederick, Maryland: National Museum of Civil War Medicine, 2007.
  14. Reports of Col. Tilghman H. Good, Forty-seventh Pennsylvania Infantry and Report of Col. Tilghman H. Good, Forty-seventh Pennsylvania Infantry, commanding First Brigade, Tenth Army Corps, in The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies. Prepared Under the Direction of the Secretary of War, By Lieut. Col. Robert N. Scott, Third U.S. Artillery, and Published Pursuant to Act of Congress Approved June 16, 1880, Series I, Vol. XIV. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1885.
  15. Schroeder-Lein, Glenna. “The Wounded,” in “Essential Civil War Curriculum.” Blacksburg, Virginia: Virginia Center for Civil War Studies, Virginia Tech University, retrieved online November 8, 2023.
  16. “The Killed and Wounded in the Battle” (casualty list from the Battle of Pocotaligo). New York, New York: The New York Herald, October 29, 1862.
  17. “Younker, George [sic],” in United States Records of Headstones of Deceased Union Veterans, 1879-1903.” Washington, D.C.: U.S. National Archives and Records Administration.
  18. “Zurückgefehrt” (announcement of the return to Pennsylvania for reburial of the remains of Captain George Junker, Henry A. Blumer, Aaron Fink and Henry Zeppenfeld). Allentown, Pennsylvania: Der Lecha Caunty Patriot, December 3, 1862.