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.
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.
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| 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.
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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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






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