With the U.S. Christian Commission at Gettysburg

Upon arriving at Gettysburg on Friday, July 10, 1863 with a U.S. Christian Commission delegation from Philadelphia, Reverend W.D. Siegfried’s first task was to escort a mother to find her son’s grave on the battlefield.

“We had some little idea of the locality of it given by a comrade of the fallen soldier,” he noted. “After traveling on foot over the battlefield some 6 miles, we came upon a cluster of graves of men from the 72nd Pennsylvania regiment which suffered terribly. The undaunted mother stood weeping while I read the names of those buried there, marked on rough boards placed at the head of the grave. At last, the name of her son met my eye. I could scarcely pronounce it. But when she heard it- oh, what an expression of grief!”

Reverend Siegfried would spend the rest of the day assisting at the 11th Corps hospital and recorded his impressions of aftermath of Gettysburg in this extraordinary letter which first appeared in the July 18, 1863, edition of the Zanesville Daily Courier published in Zanesville, Ohio.

 

A week after the battle ended, burial details still worked over the Gettysburg battlefield searching for bodies to inter. Reverend Siegfried noted the oppressive stench and stated that visitors to the field used hartshorn and camphor for relief. He also witnessed civilians who had tried to take souvenirs from the battlefield being punished by the provost guards by being tasked with burying dead horses. 

Barkum’s Hotel, Baltimore, Maryland

July 14, 1863

Dear Courier,

          I employ a few leisure moments here by giving you some items in regard to the recent terrible battle at Gettysburg, the appearance of the field, etc. I left Philadelphia early last week with a large number of other clergymen and other Christian citizens for the Gettysburg battlefield. We went out as commissioned delegates of the United States Christian Commission to aid that noble organization in its great work (nobly prosecuted) of administering to the wants and necessities of the thousands of sufferers from the recent bloody battle.

          After the tedium of obtaining passes and a slow government train packed with stores of various kinds, we arrived one mile from Gettysburg on Friday last at 9 a.m. [July 10] On stepping from the cars, the first object attracting the eye was a pile of ruins showing what destruction the Rebels had accomplished with the bridges, cars, etc., stopping our entrance to the town by railroad. Many other bridges had been destroyed but reconstructed.

          We began to take a more extended view of things. Here were crowds of slightly wounded soldiers, hobbling along to get on the cars for Baltimore, permission to do so having been given to as many as could get to the cars. Poor fellows, how they moved up to accomplish the walk of a mile to get away.

          We ministered to their wants, giving bread, meat, oranges, lemons, drink, etc. and thus passed on to the town. As we raised the hill, we could begin to see the lines of the battlefield extending far off to the south and west of the towns and, indeed, surrounding it. It looked like a large plain which had never been productive, only here and there a few trees and a grassy spot reminded one of what had been there. Fences were gone, trees, which had braved successive storms, lifted their broken arms towards heaven to show what war can do. The crops were destroyed and here and there a few stalks of wheat and corn afforded some nourishment to broken down and wounded horses, wandering about uncared for.

Badge of the Philadelphia branch of the U.S. Christian Commission 

          We arrived in town. Many houses bore the marks of the terrible fire of musketry and cannon across the plains, or rather valley upon which it is located. Windows were broken, doors were riddled with balls, brick walls were broken through by large balls and scaled by smaller ones. And yet we could but wonder that the damage to the town was not greater when we remember that our forces were driven through it and they again drove the Rebels back through the same streets.

          After looking about the town, we reported to the Christian Commission rooms, ready for duty. My first sad duty was to go with an aged lady from Philadelphia to search for the grave of her only son. We had some little idea of the locality of it given by a comrade of the fallen soldier. After traveling on foot over the battlefield some 6 miles (no conveyance could be had), we came upon a cluster of graves of men from the 72nd Pennsylvania regiment which suffered terribly.

The undaunted mother stood weeping while I read the names of those buried there, marked on rough boards placed at the head of the grave. At last, the name of her son met my eye. I could scarcely pronounce it. But when she heard it- oh, what an expression of grief! Imagine, if you can, a widowed mother standing by the newly discovered grave of her only son on a bloody battlefield. I will not undertake to describe it. The body was exhumed and taken to Philadelphia. This was only one scene of many of its kind. Far and near, groups of mourners and the curious were gathered around the laborers taking up bodies. People from every loyal state were there on the same errand, looking after the wounded and the dead.

72nd Pennsylvania monument at Gettysburg

I wandered for hours over that awful field. It stretched away 10 miles in length and by 4-6 miles in width, taking out the very heart of Adams County. On every hand were guns, canteens, shells, balls, and all the implements and accoutrements of the men who fought there so desperately a few days before. Crowds of people were driving and walking across that bloody plain, no fences to obstruct them, and various roads made by cavalry and artillery during the fight led them around to spots revealing notoriously bloody deeds. Dead horses were lying about on every side, some heaps of them burning which sent up a volume of smoke and gave out a stench horrible to endure.

Indeed, the whole field was horribly oppressive and parties traveling over it had to carry hartshorn, camphor, etc. as a relief from the horrible atmosphere of the plain. Clots of blood, pieces of limbs of the poor men, and other horrible signs met the eye at every turn. Some of the Rebel dead yet lie unburied though they will all be buried today as parties of Rebel prisoners are compelled to render that sad service. Yonder are three men burying a dead horse and they have just buried two Rebel horses. Ah, they have to do this as a penalty for having to pass the guard with some bayonets and ramrods as trophies of the battle. Nothing of this kind is allowed.

A loud report of an explosion attracts our attention. A man driving off the field with a dead body has driven against a capped shell and it exploded- fortunately, no one was hurt. A poor fellow carelessly kicked a shell this morning as he passed along and it exploded, tearing off his foot.

Yonder is the Round Top Mountain celebrated as the scene of the dreadful struggle of the 2nd of July. It looks as though a great hurricane had passed over it, scarcely a whole tree is left standing. There among the rocks are bodies of dead Rebels that cannot be gotten out. The resurrection along with reach this.

Yonder are long rows of tents and we will go over. It is the 11th Army Corps hospital. There are several of their hospitals in sight 4 miles distant. Ah what sights here met the eye. Over 1,000 wounded men lying in their tents on the ground with nothing but a little hay and a blanket between them and the damp earth. It is impossible to do any better for them as there are so many. See their bloody matted clothing, hear their heart-rending groans. Surgeons, physicians, and nurses are at work night and day doing all that can be done for the relief of these poor men.

Corps Badge
First Div., 11th A.C. 

Having been assigned to this hospital as a delegate of the Christian Commission, I go to work to help others to relieve the sufferers. We give them food and drink, dress their wounds, tell them about Jesus, and bury the dead. Thus, the day closes and night comes on. The camp is lit up, it looks grand but oh the sufferers make one forget everything else. Walk along these rows of tents, hear the voices of prayer, the groans of the sufferers, the harsh grating of the surgeon’s saw severing human bones, and then weep for you can do no more.

Yonder goes a little company with a dead soldier, the tenth today, to extend still larger that large row of graves along the stone fence. The morning air is heavy, the stench of the field and camp is horrible. Sick and tired, I gladly walk two miles to get a breath of fresh air and some food and the luxury of sleeping on a carpeted floor with my blanket over me and my haversack for a pillow. This is the record of only one day upon the battlefield of Gettysburg. I cannot add more. 

Yours truly,

W.D. Siegfried

Reverend Siegfried was pastor of the Twelfth Baptist Church of Philadelphia during the war. He resigned his pastorate in 1865 to work as a Baptist missionary in the South and later wrote a book entitled “Winter in the South and Work Among the Freedman” which was published in 1870.

Source:

Letter from Rev. W.D. Siegfried, U.S. Christian Commission, Zanesville Daily Courier (Ohio), July 18, 1863, pg. 2


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