The Ladies Will Not Think Less of You: General O.O. Howard Loses His Arm at Fair Oaks

It is Monday morning, June 2, 1862. The day after having his right arm amputated at the Battle of Fair Oaks, General Oliver O. Howard met a fellow amputee at Fair Oaks Station, General Phil Kearny.

“They dismounted and stood near us while Kearny and I grasped hands,” General Howard remembered. “He had lost his left arm in Mexico. To console me, he said in a gentle voice, “General, I am sorry for you, but you must not mind it. The ladies will not think the less of you!” I laughed as I glanced at our two hands of the same size and replied, “There is one thing we can do, general. We can buy our gloves together!” He answered with a smile, “Sure enough!” But we did not, for I never met him again. He was killed at Chantilly on September 1, 1862.”

General Howard’s reminiscences of the fighting at Fair Oaks and its aftermath are drawn from his autobiography published in 1907.

 

General Oliver Otis Howard served throughout the Civil War, rising from regimental commander to army commander and serving in both eastern and western theaters. The image at left dates from before Fair Oaks; the one at center from about 1863 when he was leading the 11th Army Corps, and the one at right from around the time he wrote his autobiography in the early 1900s. 

On the morning of June 1st, matters had shaped themselves fairly well for us. From right to left in a bend, concave toward Smith and Longstreet, were the divisions of Sedgwick, Richardson, Kearny, and Hooker. Sumner’s troops were at the extreme right, parallel to the Nine-Mile Road. The Union line then ran along the railway and finally crossing the railway and turnpike it continued on by the strong works near Savage Station to White Oak Swamp.

Of our division on Sedgwick’s left, French’s brigade of four regiments was the front line with my 5th New Hampshire still covering the whole front as a picket guard. The remainder of my brigade consisting of the 64th New York (Colonel Thomas J. Parker), 61st New York (Colonel Francis C. Barlow), and 81st Pennsylvania (Colonel James Miller) formed a second line a few hundred yards back. General Thomas Meagher’s brigade of three regiments made a third line with Hazzard’s, Frank’s, and Petit’s batteries of our division located on convenient knolls near the front. Thus, at dawn we stood ready for work.

As soon as it was light, the 5th New Hampshire under Colonel Edward E. Cross advanced slowly till it had seized the woods beyond the railroad near Fair Oaks Station. Hazzard quickly found a favorable place for the batteries, whence by a crossfire he commanded all the open spaces over which the enemy would have to approach us. The guns and battery men were shielded by epaulements hurriedly thrown up.

Colonel Edward E. Cross
5th New Hampshire

The first noisy collision of this Sunday morning was about 5 o’clock; it became a smart reveille to all; first, a brisk skirmish, a few bullets whizzing through the treetops. Colonel Cross had every man ready and the artillery officers with good field glasses were watching. There was always a strange thrill of interest at such a time. The movement was, however, only a Confederate reconnaissance. The reconnoiterers were hunting for the Fair Oaks railroad station which, unbeknownst to them, had changed occupants. For a brief period, they cavalry and infantry showed in the openings along our front but everywhere found themselves met by Cross’s skirmishers whose steady firing, supported by the rapid crossfire of our batteries, drove them beyond range.

This event increased our caution. Too long an interval was reported between French and Birney of Kearny’s division with only pickets connecting the two brigades. French then gained ground to the left, thinning his ranks and taking a greater distance from Sedgwick. Still, he could not reach far enough so by General [Israel] Richardson’s order I sent Colonel Miller with the 81st Pennsylvania. Miller promptly deployed his men and moved forward till abreast of Colonel Brooke who commanded French’s left regiment. The reason for not connecting with Birney’s brigade, now under command of Colonel Ward, was that it was much farther back from the enemy than French expected to find it and the underbrush was too thick to see very far.

Sumner was now the senior officer south of the Chickahominy, but in command of his own corps only and Heintzelman commanded his part of the line. The commander of the whole battle was McClellan at his headquarters several miles away. The day’s work resulted in spasmodic activities at several points of our front and no general aggressive movement even after the Confederate partial attacks had been repulsed.

The 5th New Hampshire was relieved from the skirmish line and placed in reserve. There were but a few minutes to wait. Upon French’s left front there came a Confederate attack with two deployed brigade fronts, Armistead’s and Pickett’s. They moved at a quick walk and, owing to the prevalence of the woodland, drew wonderfully near before they were discovered. Along the whole of our front line, they opened a heavy rolling fire of musketry within 50 yards. French’s men instantly returned the fire and the contest over an hour was as severe as any in the war.

Colonel James Miller
81st Pennsylvania
Killed at Fair Oaks

At this time, Miller of my brigade who was to the left saw through the trees the advancing troops. He gave the word “ready” when some officer near him said, “No, colonel, they are our own men!” Probably thinking them detached from Ward, Miller in his strong voice commanded, “Recover arms,” then called out “Who are you?” They cried out, “Virginians!” and instantly fired a volley which killed Colonel Miller and so many of his men that the regiment lost its continuity. A captain, Robert M. Lee, Jr., [Co. F] sprang upon a stump near at hand and rallied six companies. At once I sent Lieutenant Nelson A. Miles to look up the other four companies. He soon found them and brought them together at the railroad where there was an open space and then led them again into action.

It was at this period of the conflict that Richardson sent to me to fill the interval made worse by the loss of Miller. I brought two regiments into line at the railroad: the 61st New York on the right and the 64th New York to its left. Just as we were ready to advance, the enemy’s fire began to meet us, cutting through the trees. My brown horse was wounded through the shoulder and I had to dismount and wait for another. Turning towards the men, I saw that some had been hit and others were leaving their ranks. This was their first experience under fire. I cried out with all my might, “Lie down!” Every man dropped to the ground; then my staff and the field officers aided me in sheltering the men by forming line behind the railroad embankment, but we could not fire yet without the danger of pouring shot into French’s line.

Lieutenant Charles H. Howard. 
Oliver's younger brother

In five minutes, I had mounted my large gray horse, my brother riding my third and only other one, a beautiful “zebra.” In order to encourage the men in a forward movement, I placed myself mounted in front of the 64th New York and my aide Lieutenant Charles H. Howard in front of the 61st New York. Every officer was directed to repeat each command. I ordered “Forward” and then “March!” I could hear the echo of these words and, as I started, the 64th New York followed me with a glad shout up the slope and through the woods. The 61st New York followed my brother at the same time. We moved forward finely, taking many prisoners as we went and gaining ground to the left until we came abreast of French’s division.

Before reaching French’s line, I was wounded through the right forearm by a small Mississippi rifle ball. Lieutenant Howard just then ran to me on foot and said that the zebra horse was killed. He took a handkerchief, bound up my arm, and then ran back to the 61st New York. As the impulse was favorable to a charge, I decided to go on farther and asking Brooke’s regiments on French’s left to lie down, called again, “Forward!”

And on we went, pushing back the enemy and breaking through his nearest line. We pressed our way over uneven ground to the neighborhood of the crossroads of Seven Pines where our men the day before had left their tents standing. Behind those tents was found a stronger force of Confederates kneeling and firing. We approached within 30-40 yards and halted on as favorable ground as possible before promptly and efficiently returning their fire.

When at last we halted near the standing tents and I had passed to the rear of the line which was rapidly firing, my gray had his left foreleg broken and though I was not then aware of it, I had been wounded again, my right elbow having been shattered by a rifle shot. My brother Lieutenant Howard was missing. Lieutenant William McIntyre of the 61st New York saw the condition of my horse and seized me, putting me in a sheltered piece of ground. I heard him say, “General, you shall not be killed.” McIntyre himself was slain near that spot, giving his life for mine.

The bullets were just then raining upon our men who, without flinching, were firing back. As a faintness warmed me, I called to Colonel Barlow who was nearby to take command. He answered me in a clear, cool voice, “Shall I take command of the whole brigade, sir?” I replied, “No, only this portion.” It would have broken Cross’s heart to have forgotten even at such a time his seniority and the colonel of the 64th New York who was also Barlow’s senior, but he had failed in the necessary physical strength that day.

Colonel Francis C. Barlow
61st New York

Barlow took command and stood his ground until Brooke, to whom I spoke on my way to the rear, brought up his line. After a little further conflict in that vicinity, the Confederates gave way and along our division front, the victory was complete. General French’s medical director, Surgeon Gabriel Grant, [2nd New Jersey, later a Medal of Honor recipient for this act] was operating under fire besides a large stump close up to the troops. There he bound up my arm. I found my brother shot through the thigh, just able to limp along by using his empty scabbard for a cane.

Dr. Grant dressed his leg and provided him with a stretcher. I preferred to walk. En route, I encountered a soldier among the wounded with his fingers broken and bleeding. He cried out with pain. Seeing me he drew near with sympathy. “You are worse off than I,” he said and putting his arm around me, he let me share his strength. We wounded wanderers at last found Courtney’s house a half mile or more north of the Fair Oaks Station.

Dr. Hammond, my personal friend, met me near the house, saw the blood, touched my arm and said with feeling, “General, your arm is broken.” The last ball had passed through the elbow joint and crushed the bones into small fragments. He led me to a Negro hut, large enough only for a double bed. Here I lay down, alarming an aged Negro couple who feared at first that some of us might discover and seize hidden treasure which was in that bed.

My brigade surgeon Dr. Palmer and several others soon stood by my bedside in consultation. At last Dr. Palmer with a serious face kindly told me that my arm better come off. “All right, go ahead. Happy to lose only my arm,” I said.

“Not before 5 p.m., general.”

“Why not?”

“Reaction must set in.”

So, I had to wait six hours. I had received the second wound at about 10:30 that morning. I had reached the Courtney house about 11 and, in some weakness, and discomfort occupied the Negro cabin till the hour appointed. At that time, Dr. Palmer came with four stout soldiers and a stretcher. They me upon it and the doctor put around the arm a torniquet close to the shoulder, screwing it tighter and tighter above the wound. They then bore me to the amputating room, a place a little gruesome withal from arms, legs, and hands not yet carried off and poor fellows with anxious eyes awaiting their turn.

Surgeon Gabriel Grant
2nd New Jersey
Medal of Honor

On the long table I was nicely bolstered; Dr. Grant, who had come from the front, relieved the too-tight torniquet. A mixture of chloroform and gas was administered and I slept quietly. Dr. Palmer amputated the arm above the elbow. When I awoke I was surprised to find the heavy burden was gone but was content and thankful. The next morning [June 2, 1862] my brother and I set out on leave with a surgeon’s certificate of disability.

I rode beside the driver of the ambulance to Fair Oaks station. I had had reached the ground at the station when General Philip Kearny rode up with his staff. They dismounted and stood near us while Kearny and I grasped hands. He had lost his left arm in Mexico. To console me, he said in a gentle voice, “General, I am sorry for you, but you must not mind it. The ladies will not think the less of you!” I laughed as I glanced at our two hands of the same size and replied, “There is one thing we can do, general. We can buy our gloves together!” He answered with a smile, “Sure enough!” But we did not, for I never met him again. He was killed at Chantilly on September 1, 1862.

Source:

Howard, Oliver Otis. Autobiography of Oliver Otis Howard, Major General, United States Army. Volume 1. New York: The Baker & Taylor Co., 1907, pgs. 242-251

Comments

Most Popular Posts

Arming the Buckeyes: Longarms of the Ohio Infantry Regiments

Bullets for the Union: Manufacturing Small Arms Ammunition During the Civil War

Dressing the Rebels: How to Dye Butternut Jeans Cloth

Arming the Union: Federal Contract Model 1861 Springfield Rifle Muskets

The Vaunted Enfield Rifle Musket

Arming the Empire State: Arms Issues to New York Infantry Regiments in 1861

Old Abe: The Magnificent War Eagle of the 8th Wisconsin

A Different Vista on the Civil War: An "Ohio" Marked Lorenz Rifle

Cotton Burning on the Levee: A Civilian Witnesses the Federal Seizure of New Orleans

A Captured Sword and Lost Story of the Battle of Stones River