Chasing History: Exploring My Ancestral Roots - Post #12
by Tonya Graham McQuade
During the Civil War, Benton Barracks in St. Louis, Missouri was a Union Army military encampment that could accommodate up to 30,000 soldiers in over a mile of barracks. The site, which included a headquarters, warehouses, cavalry stables, and parade grounds, was used primarily as a training facility for Union soldiers attached to the Western Division of the Union Army. After the Battle of Lexington, the Post and Convalescent Hospitals were added in order to assist in treating hundreds of incoming wounded troops - up to 3,000 at a time.
James Calaway Hale was one of those troops - and he spent almost two years at the General Hospital, also known as “The Marine,” at Benton Barracks. During that time, he wrote many letters to his wife and children, as well as to his oldest daughter, Mary Ann Hale Petree, and her husband, Bailis Petree (my great-great grandparents). Below are excerpts from three of those letters - including the first one after arriving at the hospital and one describing another "lucky escape" from likely death (see the previous "lucky escape" described in my Centralia Massacre post):
23 June 1863 - General Hospital, Benton Barracks, St. Louis, MO
Mr. James C. Hale, 33rd Reg. Mo. Vols., Co. H General Hospital, Benton Barracks, MO, Ward A
Dear Son and Daughter;
I am thankful to god that I am blest this morning of writing a few lines to you to let you know that I am good spirits and good heart and not sick at all, only I have a pain in my stomach but not much cough. I have the Rheumatism in the small of my back and hips, but Mary Ann, I cannot act the deceit, for I forget myself and leave my cane half the time and I go without. I will come out all right.
If a man will do right and keep on his guard and get the good will of the doctors and of the rest of the officers that is over you, they will favor you. The doctors just now come round. I cannot tell yet what they will do with me. They is men getting discharges here every day that look a good deal stouter than I do and have not been off of duty half so long, and then they is some others here that looks bad and have been here ever since the first of April and ain’t discharged.
If a man had some good friend to tend to his case, he could get a discharge without any trouble, but if you go yourself to urge it too fast, you cannot do much with the doctors. They have been fooled so much by men pretending to be diseased and nothing the matter that it is almost impossible for a man to get discharged. But as long as I am in as good a place as I am, I am satisfied to get out of danger or any hard battles, although it is hard that I cannot get to come home and see you all. They don’t let men bring their wives here to stay, only two or three hours in the day with their husbands, so they tell me, but I will find out more about it.
The government hires these ladies to tend to the sick - four in each ward. They are passing all the time. They will tend on them that gets so low they cannot help theirselves and feed them. The men sweeps out the room twice a day. The floor is as smooth as a die. You cannot find a particle of dirt all over. You have to take off your hat at the door, everybody - doctors, preachers, and everybody else - while you are inside.
If I had plenty of money, Mary Ann, I would have you and Bailis and your Mother and the balance of the children come and see this place. It would be worth more than all the shows and everything else you ever seen. I cannot describe it at all to you so as you could ever draw any idea how these Hospitals look and the Barracks. It is the beautifullest place that eyes ever beheld, I think, but I see no chance for any of you to come yet, but be in good heart until I write again….
So no more at present but still remains your affection father until death,
James C. Hale
Over the next couple weeks, James continued to write to his family, reassuring them the was was “on the mend fast” and expressing his belief that he would soon be “well and hearty as [he] ever was” and that he would “take good care of [him]self.”
In his letter dated July 5, 1863, he wrote: “I have been blessed to what hundreds and thousands of others has. I see hundreds myself crippled and wounded. They is now one hundred and twenty six in this ward. The most of them have been shot somewhere – one man, his eye shot out; some in the mouth and out at the side of the jaw, others with one or two fingers off, some in the arm. They are shot from the top of their head down to their toes. I see one man shot through the toes, but the most of these men are in good health…. [The wards} are all full, and they is four other wards round this ring. You can walk all the way round. I will go round this week and see. They is any amount of other large rooms all round close by all full and any amount down in town where the most of the sickest is left.”
Several weeks later, he learned he had narrowly escaped a likely death when the camp where he had been stationed prior to being taken to the hospital - in Helena, Arkansas - had been attacked by Confederate troops. Here are excerpts from his letter, dated July 13, 1863:
Today I got a fresh paper giving the correctness of all the late battles, so I thought I would send it to Bailis. I want you to read it all through, and you will see how I escaped that battle (Battle of Helena – 4 July 1863). The Seesech (secessionists) broke right plum through where my company was posted, and I expect they killed the most of them. I don’t know how the Rebs ever got up the hills and hollows, but they did and cut their way right through and took the battery, but they did not hold it long….
Thanks almighty God that I have escaped as well as I have. I have never seen a Rebel in arms since I left home, but I have been close to them, and they would hear of us coming and they would skedaddle. I think the war is about over, and then I can come home in peace….
I wish it was so that you come all of you and just see this place and the wounded soldiers that is in this ward. I don’t know but what they is fifty more wards besides this that is all full of sick and wounded in town and at Schofield Barracks and at Jefferson Barracks. All are full, but they have but two men died out of this ward since I have been here, none dangerous now I don’t think. They is men here in the ward, several with one arm shot off close up to their shoulder or taken off - there some the right and some the left, and some shot through the arm and some through the hand, part of their fingers shot off, and some in the knee and foot. They are all getting well, but what use will the most of them be, just an expense to their families. Can’t get discharged – been here some of them all summer.
As you can see, James had quite a way with words. Most of his letters are four pages each - and there are forty of them! Some are faded, and some have portions missing, but most are still in good shape, with very legible handwriting. Sometimes his spelling or wording was a bit strange, sometimes he used slang or expressions that we no longer use, and sometimes he left words out. In addition, there was almost no punctuation, so that has been added by me to help make the letters more readable. But overall, I was impressed by his detail and descriptions, as well as the care he took to write special messages to the various family members.
If you've enjoyed this "peek" at James Calaway Hale's letters and his descriptions of his hospital experience during the Civil War, be sure to click "Follow" above and sign up for email alerts for future posts.
My next posts will explore some of the letters I acquired describing various family members' experiences on the Oregon Trail and settling in California, Oregon, and Washington in the 1850's and 1860's. Check back soon ...
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