Newspapers continued to publish stories about women who served as men, spied, or nursed. Male veterans passed down their stories, assisted some of the impoverished or supported their pension applications, and even buried others with full military honors. But public interest waned with the onset of World War I and the passing of the generation that fought in the Civil War. Historians of the early twentieth century, mostly white men, discounted or dismissed the stories of women who served in the Civil War.
The women who served in the Civil War exceeded the expectations of Victorian society and left a legacy of dedication, courage, patriotism, and sacrifice. Louisa May Alcott wrote, “The height of my ambition was to go to the front after a battle.” Mary Edwards Walker believed that women had the ability to fight. And Sarah Edmonds spoke for many: “I could only thank God that I was free and could go forward and work, and I was not obliged to stay at home and weep.”
Sarah Emma Edmonds
(1841–1898)
U.S. Army
Sarah Emma Edmonds dressed as a man and enlisted for three years as “Franklin Thompson” in the Second Michigan Infantry in 1861. She served as a mail carrier and a spy. In the spring of 1863, having suffered internal injuries in battle and contracted malaria, she deserted to avoid discovery. She continued to serve as a nurse under her real name from June 1863 until the end of the war. In 1864 she published her memoir, Memoirs of a Soldier, Nurse and Spy: A Woman’s Adventures in the Union Army, from which the following excerpt is taken.
I took the cars the next day and went to Lebanon—dressed in one of the rebel prisoner’s clothes—and thus disguised, made another trip to rebeldom. My business purported to be buying up butter and eggs, at the farmhouses, for the rebel army. I passed through the lines somewhere, without knowing it; for on coming to a little village toward evening, I found it occupied by a strong force of rebel cavalry. The first house I went to was filled with officers and citizens. I had stumbled upon a wedding party, unawares. Captain Logan, a recruiting officer, had been married that afternoon to a brilliant young widow whose husband had been killed in the rebel army a few months before. She had discovered that widow’s weeds were not becoming to her style of beauty, so had decided to appear once more in bridal costume, for a change.
I was questioned pretty sharply by the handsome captain in regard to the nature of my business in that locality, but finding me an innocent, straightforward Kentuckian, he came to the conclusion that I was all right. But he also arrived at the conclusion that I was old enough to be in the army, and bantered me considerably upon my want of patriotism. . . .
I tried to make my escape from the village as soon as possible, but who should confront me but Captain Logan. Said he: “See, here, my lad; I think the best thing you can do is enlist, and join a company which is just forming here in the village, and will leave in the morning. We are giving a bounty to all who freely enlist, and are conscripting those who refuse. Which do you propose to do, enlist and get the bounty, or refuse, and be obliged to go without anything?” I replied, “I think I shall wait a few days before I decide.” “But we can’t wait for you to decide,” said the captain; “the Yankees may be upon us any moment, for we are not far from their lines, and we will leave here either tonight or in the morning early. I will give you two hours to decide this question, and in the meantime you must be put under guard.” So saying, he marched me back with him, and gave me in charge of the guards. In two or three hours he came for my decision, and I told him that I had concluded to wait until I was conscripted. “Well,” said he, “you will not have long to wait for that, so you may consider yourself a soldier of the Confederacy from this hour, and subject to military discipline.”
This seemed to me like pretty serious business, especially as I would be required to take the oath of allegiance to the Confederate Government. . . . I was determined to be among the missing ere it became necessary for me to make any professions of loyalty to the rebel cause. I knew that if I should refuse to be sworn into the service after I was conscripted, that in all probability my true character would be suspected, and I would have to suffer the penalty of death—and that, too, in the most barbarous manner.
I was glad to find that it was a company of cavalry that was being organized, for if I could once get on a good horse there would be some hope of my escape. . . . Music and dancing was kept up all night, and it was some time after daylight when the captain made his appearance. A few moments more and we were trotting briskly over the country, the captain complimenting me upon my horsemanship, and telling me how grateful I would be to him when the war was over and the South had gained her independence, and that I would be proud that I had been one of the soldiers of the Southern Confederacy, who had steeped my saber in Yankee blood, and driven the vandals from our soil. “Then,” said he, “you will thank me for the interest which I have taken in you, and for the gentle persuasives which I made use of to stir up your patriotism and remind you of your duty to your country.”
In this manner we had traveled about half an hour, when we suddenly encountered a reconnoitering party of the Federals, cavalry in advance, and infantry in the rear. A contest soon commenced; we were ordered to advance in line, which we did, until we came within a few yards of the Yankees.
The company advanced, but my horse suddenly became unmanageable, and it required a second or two to bring him right again; and before I could overtake the company and get in line the contending parties had met in a hand-to-hand fight.
All were engaged, so that when I, by accident, got on the Federal side of the line, none observed me for several minutes, except the Federal officer, who had recognized me and signed to me to fall in next to him. That brought me face to face with my rebel captain, to whom I owed such a debt of gratitude. Thinking this would be a good time to cancel all obligations in that direction, I discharged the contents of my pistol in his face.
This act made me the center of attraction. Every rebel seemed determined to have the pleasure of killing me first, and a simultaneous dash was made toward me and numerous saber strokes aimed at my head. Our men with one accord rushed between me and the enemy, and warded off the blows with their sabers, and attacked them with such fury that they were driven back several rods.
The infantry now came up and deployed as skirmishers, and succeeded in getting a position where they had a complete cross fire on the rebels, and poured in volley after volley until nearly half their number lay upon the ground. Finding it useless to fight longer at such a disadvantage they turned and fled, leaving behind them eleven killed, twenty-nine wounded, and seventeen prisoners.
The Confederate captain was wounded badly but not mortally; his handsome face was very much disfigured, a part of his nose and nearly half of his upper lip being shot away. I was sorry, for the graceful curve of his mustache was sadly spoiled, and the happy bride of the previous morning would no longer rejoice in the beauty of that manly face and exquisite mustache of which she seemed so proud, and which had captivated her heart ere she had been three months a widow.
Loreta Janeta Velazquez
(1842–1897)
Confederate States Army
Loreta Janeta Velazquez’s memoir has been controversial since its publication in 1876. Velazquez claimed to be born of a Spanish father and French American mother in Cuba in 1842. When the Civil War began, she persuaded her husband to join the Confederate Army. She cross-dressed and masqueraded as Lt. Harry T. Buford; participated in several major battles; and then left the Army to work for the Confederacy as a double agent.
Upon reading the memoir in 1876, Gen. Jubal Early, incensed at the memoir’s anachronisms, factual errors, and portrayal of Southern men, publicly attacked its authenticity. Velazquez wrote Early in protest in May of 1878, asking him to stop discrediting her story and claiming that she needed the income from the book to support herself and her young son.
She embellished her account, which a former Union naval officer edited for publication. Historians have foun
d only tantalizing possibilities rather than conclusive documentary evidence for her actual identity and her exploits. However, a number of contemporary accounts mention her existence, including those of Gen. James Longstreet and Maj. John Newman of the Twenty-First Louisiana Volunteers, who claimed to have known her well for thirteen years. Her descriptions of battles, mostly accurate, contain only minor errors of detail. Even modern veterans will recognize the authenticity of her comments on the nature of fighting, battle, and the character and activities of military men.
Velazquez’s narrative defied established conventions for literature about women soldiers. She enlisted as a man from a desire for adventure, rather than from patriotic idealism or love of a man. She married and remarried four times. She claimed a number of additional romantic encounters—including some with other women while she was disguised as a man. Her unwillingness to shape her narrative to conform to Victorian romantic ideals probably contributed to the memoir’s controversial critical reception.
The excerpts below are taken from her 1876 memoir, The Woman in Battle: A Narrative of the Exploits, Adventures, and Travels of Madame Loreta Janeta Velazquez, Otherwise Known As Lieutenant Harry T. Buford, Confederate States Army.
[Velazquez tells her husband that she wants to accompany him to war. He tries to persuade her not to go by saying that “the hordes of rude, coarse men collected together in a camp in an emergency like this, would have but little resemblance to the regular troops in garrison with whom (she) had been familiar.”]
First Assumption of Male Attire
Finally, my husband, finding that his words made no impression, thought that he would be able to cure me of my erratic fancies by giving me an insight into some of the least pleasing features of masculine life. The night before his departure, therefore, he permitted me to dress myself in one of his suits, and said he would take me to the bar-rooms and other places of male resort, and show me something of what I would be compelled to go through if I persisted in unsexing myself. Braiding my hair very close, I put on a man’s wig, and a false mustache, and by tucking my pantaloons in my boots, as I had seen men do frequently, and otherwise arranging the garments, which were somewhat large for me, I managed to transform myself into a very presentable man. As I surveyed myself in the mirror I was immensely pleased with the figure I cut, and fancied that I made quite as good looking a man as my husband. My toilet once completed, it was not long before we were in the street, I doing my best to walk with a masculine gait, and to behave as if I had been accustomed to wear pantaloons all my life. I confess, that when it actually came to the point of appearing in public in this sort of attire, my heart began to fail me a little; but I was bent on going through with the thing, and so, plucking up courage, I strode along by the side of my husband with as unconcerned an air as it was possible for me to put on.
Presently we crossed over to a bar-room, which we found nearly filled with men smoking and drinking, and doing some pretty tall talking about the war, and the style in which the Yankees were going to be wiped out. To judge by the conversation, every man present was full of fight, and was burning with a furious desire to meet the enemy. I was too frightened and bewildered by the novelty of my situation to pay very close attention to all I saw and heard, but it flashed upon me that some of these loud-talking, hard-drinking, and blaspheming patriots were not so valiant, after all, as they professed to be. My after experiences fully confirmed my first impressions, that the biggest talkers are not always the best fighters, and that a good many men will say things over a glass of whiskey in a bar-room, who won’t do a tenth part of what they say if they are once placed within smelling distance of gunpowder.
Camp Life
The style of conversation that was common in camp, and the kind of stories told around our fires at night, I will leave to the reader’s imagination, hoping, however, that he or she has not imagination enough to compass anything so utterly vile. My favorite amusement was a game of cards, and I preferred this way of entertaining myself, and of beguiling the weary hours, to listening to anecdotes which could only debase my mind. Anything relating to military affairs, to social science, to the deeds of great men or women, or whatever else I could improve myself by listening to, I took great delight in. From my earliest recollection, however, I have had a thorough disgust for vulgarity of language and profanity, and my camp experiences only tended to increase my disgust at the blackguardism which many men are so fond of indulging in. The manner in which too many men are in the habit of referring to the other sex in conversation among themselves is, in my opinion, thoroughly despicable; and I really think that it would be morally and intellectually beneficial to many of my sex, especially those who are the victims of masculine viciousness, if they could only listen to some such conversations as I have been compelled to listen to, and learn how little respect or real regard of any kind men have for them. . . .
Many and many a time has the subject of women serving in the army as soldiers been discussed at the mess-tables and around the camp-fires; and officers, who have been in my company for days, and weeks, and months, have boasted, with very masculine positiveness, that no woman could deceive them, little suspecting that one was even then listening to them. I have sometimes been asked my opinion on the subject; but have generally answered evasively, without expressing, in very decided terms, my ideas one way or the other. Some of the men with whom I have been associated have spoken in respectful and even commendatory terms concerning women serving as soldiers; but too many have had nothing but vileness to utter on the subject. I can never forget, although I may forgive, the disgraceful language which some of these individuals have used with regard to this matter; and my experiences in the army will not have been in vain, even if they have taught me nothing more than the utter contemptibleness of some individuals, whom it would be a stretch of courtesy to call gentlemen.
The Pleasures of Fighting
The sensations of a soldier in the thick of a fight baffle description; and, as his hopes rise or sink with the ebb and flow of the battle, as he sees comrades falling about him dead and wounded, hears the sharp hiss of the bullets, the shrieking of the shells, the yells of the soldiers on each side as they smite each other, there is a positive enjoyment in the deadly perils of the occasion that nothing can equal. . . .
The second battle in which I participated—that at Ball’s Bluff—was accompanied by every circumstance of horror; and although in the excitement of the moment, when every faculty of mind and body was at extreme tension, and I was only inspired with an intense eagerness to do my whole duty for my cause, I did not fully realize the enormities of such a slaughter as was involved in the defeat of the Federals at that place, [and] I have never been able to think of it without a shudder, notwithstanding that I have fought on more than one bloody field since. Such scenes, however, are inseparable from warfare, and those who take up arms must steel themselves against them.
[She describes the battle at some length.]
Shortly after the fight commenced, I took charge of a company which had lost all its officers, and I do not think that either my men or myself failed to do our full duty. Perhaps, if I had been compelled to manoeuvre my command in the open field, I might not have done it as skilfully as some others would, although I believe that I could have played the part of a captain quite as well as a good many of them who held regular commissions as commanders of companies, and a good deal better than some others who aspired to be officers before learning the first rudiments of their business, and without having the pluck to conduct themselves before the enemy in a manner at all correspondent to their braggart style of behavior when not smelling gunpowder under compulsion. In this battle, however, fighting as we were for the most part in the woods, there was little or no manoeuvring to be done, and my main duties were to keep the men together, and to set them an example. This latter I certainly did.
After the battle was over, the first lieutenant of the company which I was commanding came in and relieved me,
stating that he had been taken prisoner, but had succeeded in making his escape in the confusion incident to the Federal defeat. I did not say anything, but had my very serious doubts as to the story which he told being the exact truth. He had a very sheepish look, as if he was ashamed of himself for playing a sneaking, cowardly trick; and I shall always believe that when the firing commenced, he found an opportunity to slink away to the rear for the purpose of getting out of the reach of danger.
I have seen a good many officers like this one, who were brave enough when strutting about in the streets of cities and villages, showing themselves off in their uniforms to the women, or when airing their authority in camp, by bullying the soldiers under them, but who were the most arrant cowards under fire, and who ought to have been court-marshalled and shot, instead of being permitted to disgrace their uniforms, and to demoralize their men, by their dastardly behavior when in the face of the enemy. My colored boy Bob was a better soldier than some of the white men who thought themselves immensely his superiors; and having possessed himself of a gun, he fought as well as he knew how, like the rest of us. When the enemy gave way, I could hear Bob yelling vociferously; and I confess that I was proud of [his] pluck and enthusiasm.
Harriet Tubman
(ca. 1820–1913)
U.S. Army
Harriet Tubman, best known for guiding escaping slaves north along the Underground Railroad and for her selfless charitable work with freedmen, served with the Union Army as a nurse, scout, spy, and soldier in South Carolina. She helped to plan and lead an Army raid into enemy territory on the Combahee River.
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