An Amputation Table

     Since the 150^th anniversary of the Battle of Cedar Creek is in just a few days, I thought this week I should feature an artifact from that battle.  It may not be what you expect though!

     Normally when you hear a surgical procedure mentioned, there’s an associated image of a surgical table and an operating room.  However, surgeons on the battlefields during the Civil War didn’t have these luxuries.  They had to improvise with the supplies they could find in the immediate area.  Fashioning a surgical table could involve putting a door on top of two barrels or chairs, or commandeering a table from someone’s home.  That is exactly what happened to an otherwise very ordinary kitchen table in the NMCWM’s collection!

Usually when visitors see our amputation scene they notice the patient, the medical personnel, and the surgical instruments.  It’s easy to overlook the actual artifact in this scene - the table.

     It is a fairly basic pine kitchen table.  The top is composed of five wide planks.  Underneath, there is one drawer with two small ivory handles.  In the photo above, you can see some dark stains on the top near one end – possibly blood stains?  We haven’t had any testing done on the table, so we can’t say for certain. 

The table and its former home, the Daniel Stickley House, were even featured on a postcard in the 1920s.  According to the caption on the postcard, “This substantial house, built in 1859, is on the Shenandoah Valley Pike midway between Strasburg and Middletown, Va.  During the Battle of Cedar Creek, fought October 19, 1864, between Federal forces under Sheridan and the Confederates under Early, a cannon ball passed thru the gable of the building.  The house was converted into a field hospital, and scores of operations were performed upon the table, shown in insert above.  So great was the call for surgical aid that the amputated arms and legs were piled higher than the table before they could be buried.”

     The table was kept in the Stickley family for many years, and by their accounts was still used in their kitchen until sometime in the 1940s.  One person did note though, that she remembered the top being covered in linoleum in later years.  I would imagine that if you knew there had been amputations performed on your kitchen table, you might want to cover the surface!  There is another story about a Civil War veteran who had been one of the patients on the table, who returned to the house and carved a small sliver of wood from it as a souvenir.  

There does appear to be a piece of wood missing from the frame!

     That’s quite a story for a little wooden table!

Photos courtesy of the National Museum of Civil War Medicine.

Faces of the Wounded

     The mission statement for the National Museum of Civil War Medicine states that we are the premier center for the preservation and research of the legacy of Civil War medical innovation.  It should be no surprise then that our displays deal with subjects such as the medicines used during the Civil War, the equipment and instruments used, and the medical practices of the time.  While all of this information is quite valuable, it is the personal stories which have the greatest impact though.  So, today I thought I’d share just a few of the stories of some wounded Civil War soldiers.

 

A photo of Private T.W. Pease of Company H, 19^th Indiana, which shows the wounds to his leg.  Also notice his orthopedic shoe.  Image courtesy of the National Museum of Health and Medicine.     

     Private Pease was wounded on July 1, 1863 at the Battle of Gettysburg.  He was struck in the right leg by a Minié ball which entered the back of his thigh, fractured the upper portion of his femur, and lodged inside his leg.  While at Gettysburg, he had three surgeries in which the bullet and three inches of his femur were removed.  By the time Pease was mustered out of the army in 1864, he was able to walk using crutches.  However, after returning home to Indiana, he experienced problems with his wounds.  After three additional surgeries it was discovered that there were still fragments of the Minié ball in his leg.  They were finally removed thirteen years after his original injury!  He was eventually able to walk with the assistance of a cane and a six-inch lift in his boot. 

 

 

A photo of Private Lewis Martin, of Company E, 29th United States Colored Troops, which shows the stumps from two amputations.  Photo courtesy of the National Archives.

 

     Private Lewis Martin enlisted in Illinois in February of 1864.  A muster roll record lists his place of birth as Arkansas, his age as 24 years, his height as 6 feet, 2 inches, and his occupation as a farmer.  A few months later he took part in a battle at Petersburg, Virginia and was wounded in the arm and the leg, resulting in the amputation of both limbs.  His wounds were described in his discharge form:  “Loss of right-arm and left-leg by amputation for shell and gunshot wounds received in battle at Petersburg on July 30, 1864 in charging the enemies works.  In consequence of which is totally disabled for military service and civil occupation wholly.”  Unfortunately, not much is known of Martin's life after the war.     

We do know that after being wounded, Private Martin was a patient here at Harewood Hospital in Washington, D.C.  Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress.

 

A photo of Private John F. Reardon, of Company C, 6^th New York Cavalry, which shows his arm after a bone resection.  Image courtesy of Dr. Gordon Dammann.

 

     Private Reardon was wounded by a shell fragment in the right arm on October 11, 1863 at Culpepper, Virginia.  An account of his treatment can be found in Images of Civil War Medicine by Gordon Dammann and Alfred J. Bollet.  “Private Reardon....was admitted to the Armory Square Hospital in Washington, D.C. only one day following his injury.  Surgeon D.W. Bliss....found that Reardon's right humerus was shattered by a fragment of shell, which was removed....  The fragment was four inches long, one inch broad, and weighed nine ounces.  Surgeon Bliss excised the head and six inches of the shaft of the humerus through a straight incision on the outside of the limb.  His case was written up as illustrating retained mobility of the arm after excision.  The arm was three inches shorter than the other, but muscle development was comparable.  Reardon was able to move the arm in all directions except abduction (i.e. movement laterally, away from the body)....

After recovering in March 1866, Reardon was reenlisted and assigned to duty as an orderly in the Army Medical Museum.... he served....suffering very little inconvenience "from the mutilation he has undergone." The record of his case....went on to state that "Without difficulty he can place his right hand on the top of his head; he can lift a weight of two hundred pounds or more with the injured limb without pain.  The movements of the forearm and hand are not in the least impaired, and there is great freedom of all the movements except abduction."

This photo from the Harvard Medical Library is captioned:  Photograph of John F. Reardon, showing the scar on his right upper arm as published in "Photographs of surgical cases and specimens / prepared by direction of the Surgeon General by George A. Otis."

 

 

     These men are certainly quite the testament to the medical innovation of the time! 

Myths of Civil War Medicine

     One of the things we try to do through the exhibits at the National Museum of Civil War Medicine is to dispel some common myths about medical practices during the Civil War.  Probably the most common misconception regards the surgeons as being uneducated butchers who indiscriminately amputated limbs from wounded soldiers.  In fact, though the term “sawbones” does predate the Civil War, it is most strongly associated with Civil War surgeons. 

     The truth is that the surgeons were educated.  The majority of Civil War surgeons attended medical school or trained with an established doctor.  Additionally, they were required to pass an exam before they were allowed to serve as a surgeon in the army. 

 

This is an admission card for a medical class at the University of New York, dated 1850.  Medical students purchased these cards for admissions into the lectures.  Note that it signed by the student, Jacob Ebersole, and the professor, Elisha Bartlett.

 

   

     The staggering number of amputations performed was not due to incompetence.  That can mostly be blamed on the new rifled musket technology and the Minié ball.  The severe tissue and bone damage done by the Minié ball made it necessary for surgeons to perform amputations.  Repairing the damage was simply not possible at that time, and amputation was the best way to save the life of the wounded soldier.

 

An amputation saw is the instrument which comes to mind for most people when Civil War medicine is mentioned.  This saw has an ebony wood handle with a cross-hatching design which provided a bit more grip.  Notice that the blade of this saw can be replaced.

 

     Another myth which has been reinforced in some old movies, is that many amputations were done without anesthesia.  Patients undergoing amputations were reportedly were given bullets to bite on for the pain, hence the expression, “to bite the bullet.”  I can tell you that is one expression which is not used at my museum! 

     The truth here is that before the Civil War, the anesthetic qualities of both chloroform and ether were known.  The first surgery using ether as an anesthetic was performed in 1846, well before the start of the Civil War.  The fact is that some form of anesthesia was used in 95% of Civil War surgeries. 

 

This medical tin contained chloroform, and was part of a U.S.A. Medical Department hospital kit from the Civil War.

 

     Another myth is that there were no effective drugs available during the Civil War.  Admittedly, there were some remedies which were ineffective, and others which were downright dangerous.  However, there were many medications available which were quite effective.  Morphine and opium were used in the Civil War, and opiates continue to be used as painkillers.  Civil War soldiers were often successfully vaccinated against smallpox, and we continue to use vaccines to protect us from many diseases. 

 

This medical tin contained quinine, which was (and still is) used to combat malaria. 

 

     One more myth is that the Civil War surgeons did not have to deal with the amount of paperwork which is common today.  However, in addition to their other duties, they actually had quite a bit of time-consuming paperwork to complete.  Surgeons had to keep records of the daily sick call, patient rosters from the hospitals, their surgical case notes, lists of the discharged and deceased soldiers, records of the medicines and hospital stores they received, and sometimes even weather data.  They also had to send requisitions for medical supplies, as well as monthly reports to the Surgeon General's Office.

 

This is a “Form for Examining a Recruit” which was filled out by Inspecting Surgeon John H. Mackie on October 16^th, 1862.  The subject was a 25-year-old recruit named James Smith from Biddeford, Maine, who listed his occupation as a laborer.  The only area of concern listed is where it is noted that he is missing one upper incisor.  He was approved.

 

 

 

Here is a surgeon’s Morning Report book.  Take a closer look at the line near the bottom which reads, “Put up by Edward R. Squibb, M.D.”  Does that name sound familiar?  If you’ve heard of the pharmaceutical company, Bristol-Myers Squibb, you now know one of its founders!

 

     This all makes me wonder if the fellows from the Mythbusters television show would ever tackle any of these myths!

Photos courtesy of the National Museum of Civil War Medicine.

The Story of a Civil War Soldier

     Peleg Bradford, Jr. was a 20-year-old farm boy from Carmel, Maine when he enlisted in the 18^th Maine Volunteer Infantry in July of 1862.  He was listed as being 6’2” tall and nearly 200 pounds.  Though Peleg was not married when he enlisted, some of his letters indicate that he was engaged to a girl named Cynthia McPherson.

     The National Museum of Civil War Medicine has several displays throughout the museum which are dedicated to Private Bradford.  They feature copies of some letters he wrote home.  Visitors can read Peleg’s thoughts about the war in his own words.  The final panel in the museum also features a unique personal item of Peleg’s. 

    

 

The caption on the panel reads, “Union Private Peleg Bradford ca. October 1862.  Notice that the letters “US” on the belt buckle read backwards.  Images were printed as negatives on metal sheets presenting a "flipped" picture.  This photo is courtesy of the Bradford family.”

 

     The 18th Maine was first assigned to defend Washington, D.C. under the Army of the Potomac.  In an early letter home, Peleg describes being in Washington.  [Letters are copied in Peleg’s own words and spelling.] 

“Fort Wagner

August 28, 1862

Dear Mother I thought I would write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope theas few lines will find you the same.  We arrived here last night.  The fort is within three miles of Washington.  We will camp here until further orders.  The sun shone hot.  The 17 Maine is camping about a half mile from us.  Our camps is in plain sight of the Capital.  The boyes are all well that went from Carmel.  I don’t know of any more to wright so good by.”

     Another letter to his sister gives us a glimpse into the diet of the recruits, and how they supplemented their army rations!

 

“Fort De Russia

September 18, 1862

Dear Sister:

…Our living is hard bread and beaf one day and the next is beaf and hard bread but we go out knits and get peaches and apples bee hives and young pigs and cabbage and bring them in and have a good feast.  After we chop treas ten days we have forty cents a day extra so that makes us pretty good pay.”

 

     Like many of the new recruits, Peleg became ill while in camp – with the measles!  He recovered, but expressed his dislike of the war and camp life in a letter to his father shortly afterwards.


“What does the Carmel folks think of this war now days?  ….they had better cum out south and waid in the mud two or three months and then they will want the war to stop.  I would like to see some of them….out here and I would like to see them sack a knapsack through the mud….”  

     Peleg was a good big brother and attempted to talk his teenage brother, Owen, out of following in his footsteps and enlisting in the Army.  He was not successful in swaying Owen, and wrote of his disappointment in a letter to his mother:

“Fort Sumner

October 28^th, 1863

Dear Mother,

I am very sorry to hear that Owen has enlisted but I have said all that I can to keep him from enlisting.  I think that if father lets him go that he is to blaim for money is nothing to a man’s life.  You tell him that he will be a sory boy that ever enlisted.  I used to think it was something grate to be a soldier but I think different now.  If I was out of the Army no four hundred dollars would get me back again, that is sure.  Perhaps Owen has not been used wel but he will get used worse in the Army.”

 

This display panel contains a map which shows the location of two of the camps where Peleg Bradford was stationed.

 

     In 1864, Peleg’s regiment was ordered out of Washington D.C. and sent into Virginia.  Peleg was able to write a quick letter home before leaving D.C.

“Fort Sumner

May 14^th, 1864

Dear Mother:

I am well and so is Owen.  I cant write but a few lines this time.  We are under marching orders and we are all packed up and ready to start.  They say that we have got to help take richmon and I expect to see some harde times before it is over but I shal try and take care of my self.  I will rite to you again as soon as I can get a chance.  Tell bart and smith to take care of themselves.  The boyes are in good spearit about going but I think they will see hard times but it is nothing more than what I expected before this time.  Keep up good courage until you hear from me again.  Do the best that you can while I am gon, good bye.”

 

     In June 16-18, 1864, his regiment participated in the assault on Petersburg, Virginia.  On June 17, Peleg was crouched in a shallow rifle pit when he felt a small rock fall inside his right shoe.  He pulled his right knee up next to his head so that he could remove the rock from his shoe.  At that moment, a Confederate sharpshooter, who was probably aiming for Peleg’s head, hit and shattered Peleg’s knee.  Peleg survived being shot, but his right leg had to be amputated at the knee.

     A few days later, his regiment once again received orders to move.  As they were marching out, Owen was able to run into the hospital tent to see Peleg.  Upon seeing his brother in pain, Owen tore his own blanket in half, rolled it up and put it under his leg stump.  He then ran back out to join the march. 

     Peleg was sent back to Washington, D.C., to Columbian Hospital to recover.  Here he was able to write a short letter to his mother to tell her about what had happened.    

“Columbian Hospital

June 23^rd, 1864

Dear Mother,

I now will try and rite you a few lines to let you know how I get along.  I am in bad shape now.  I have lost my right leg.  It was taken off the 16 of this month.  It is getting along very well now.  My leg is very painful now and I can’t rite but a very little this time.  Owen was well the 16th when I saw him last.  I can’t rite any more this time so good bye.”

     It took him a little longer to break the news to Cynthia.  He did write to her though, and told her how awkward he was going to feel when he saw his friends back home.  He also told her that he wouldn’t hold her to the promise to marry him, but that they would talk about it once he was home, and that he would leave the decision up to her.  In another letter, he mentions how his leg is healing well, but mentions how difficult the experience has been for him.

“Columbian Hospital, Washington

July 13^th, 1864

Dear Friend: [Cynthia]

I now improve a few moments time in writing to you.  I am sitting up now but I don’t know how long I can sit up.  You wanted to know how my leg got along.  It is getting along first rate.  You need not have sent them stamps to me for I can get a plenty of them here.  Them stamps that you sent to me Owen will get.  So they will do for him.  You tell Smith that it is hard work for me to write and I don’t know when I can write to him.  I am in hopes that I shall be home by the last of next month.  Oh Cynith God only knows how much I have suffered since I lost my leg but it is getting along first rate now.  I would like to write you a good long letter but I can’t.  I can only write short letters so goodbye for this time.”

     Despite his hopes of going home in a month, Peleg spent the rest of the war in the hospital in Washington, D.C.  He was still there when he got the news that his brother Owen had been killed by an exploding shell at the Battle of Petersburg.  Owen was just 16 years old.

     After being discharged, Peleg returned home to Carmel.  At some point, he had a wood and leather prosthetic leg made so that he would not have to continue to get around on crutches.  Though the government would have provided him with a more realistic-looking prosthetic leg, for some reason he chose to use the homemade “peg leg.”

  

 

Here is the final panel in the museum, which displays some family photos and Peleg’s prosthetic leg.

     Peleg and Cynthia got married on Oct. 7, 1866, and they went on to have eight children!  Peleg ran a local sawmill and also served as a selectman for the town of Carmel.  He died in 1918 at age 76. 

 

A family photo of Peleg, Cynthia, and their children.

 

     Peleg’s grandson, Richard Bradford, provided some insight into Peleg’s attitudes after the war towards weapons, violence, and the Confederate who wounded him.  “He [Peleg] brought no single item of army gear home with him, and was, in fact, left with such an aversion to dealing with death that he never allowed a firearm of any kind in his house…  Yes, I think he had a certain pride in having served.  He was a G.A. R. member and was glad to reunite with his old comrades-in-arms.  He recognized the men he fought against as being like him and often said he’d like to meet the Johnny who shot him, not for revenge, but to have a chance to compare notes and to get to know him as a man.”

You can read more about Peleg Bradford here.

 

 

Photos courtesy of the National Museum of Civil War Medicine.

Civil War Arms of a Different Sort

     It seems appropriate after posting about amputations to post next about some of the prosthetics used by the soldiers after the amputations.  Since I’ve already posted about a prosthetic leg here, I will focus on a prosthetic arm this time.

 

Here is the only prosthetic arm in the museum’s collection. It was manufactured by Marvin Lincoln of Malden, Massachusetts. It is made of maple wood and features a lockable elbow joint, an opposable controlled thumb, a replaceable hand, and ventilation holes for the elbow stump.

 

 

     Though prosthetic limbs were around long before the Civil War, the sheer number of amputees produced by the war, coupled with the fact that the Union veterans who were amputees were provided federal government funds to purchase prosthetics, spurred many advances in the field of prosthetics.  (Confederate veterans had to request prosthetics from their home states.)  Marvin Lincoln was one of the manufacturers who supplied these artificial limbs.  An arm like the one pictured above sold for $50, which was also the amount that the government supplied for a veteran to purchase a prosthetic arm.

 

This photo from the Library of Congress shows an unidentified soldier from Company G, 147th New York Infantry Regiment, with two amputated arms. Had he not been fitted for prosthetic arms yet, or did he choose not to wear them for the photo?

 

 

This is a copy of Lincoln’s patent for his artificial arm, dated August 11, 1863, which diagrams the parts of his arm. 

 

     In the patent letter which accompanied the above diagram, Lincoln states, “To flex the arm, it is only necessary to give the upper arm a quick jerking motion, which throws up the forearm, causing the latch-spring and catch to operate as to lock it in position.  When thus bent, the arm is generally thrown across and against the breast, assuming then an easy and graceful position, and it may also be used to carry pieces of clothing or other bundles….having in this way a capability not possessed by any other arm now made…. 

I do not give to all the fingers an extended position….but that while making the two forefingers nearly straight, so that they will have the proper position to enable them to act in conjunction with the spring-thumb to hold or firmly grasp any article between them, and I give the outer fingers a hooking form….  This manner of construction enables me to impart to the hand not only a graceful and ornamental form, but to give it also a capacity to carry articles like baskets, bags, &c., by hooking them onto the fingers.”

 

   Let’s take a look at some of the details on this arm.

   

 

This view shows what remains of the leather strap which held the arm in place, the elbow joint, and the ventilation holes.

 

Here is a close-up of the carved hand. Unfortunately, the fingertips have all been broken. Note the details Lincoln included to make the arm look more realistic though – the nail bed on the thumb, and the flesh-colored paint on the arm. The small screw on the wrist was the mechanism used to remove the hand. It could be replaced by a hook or other implement if the wearer desired!

 

This label is located on the back of the forearm and not only identifies the maker of the arm, but also doubles as the button for the locking mechanism for the elbow.

 

     In an advertising pamphlet written by Marvin Lincoln just after the war, his artificial arms are described as being sturdy enough to handle being used in everyday life, while still being “artistic and beautiful” in appearance.  He also claimed that these arms gave their wearers, “the consciousness that what he uses to conceal his loss, and to assist him in his labors and pleasures, is no disgusting appendage, but, on the contrary, is entirely worthy to fill the ‘vacant sleeve.’”

     I tend to believe he hit the mark here!

 

You can read more about Civil War prosthetics here.

 

Photos courtesy of the National Museum of Civil War Medicine, except where otherwise noted.