Work of the Litter/Stretcher Bearers

Tom Elmore

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Infantry regiments in both armies at Gettysburg contributed several litter/stretcher bearers to their respective ambulance “corps,” yet their activities generally went unrecorded. We often catch a mere glimpse of their work from extant sources. Still, it is difficult not to admire their mission and dedication in approaching so close to the front to help their fellow man. A certain amount of risk was inherent in the job, but some took greater chances than others. Whenever they acted promptly to deliver a wounded comrade to medical authorities, their timely actions no doubt spelled the difference between life and death in many instances, as modern studies have shown. Besides being exposed to enemy infantry and artillery fire, it was exhausting work to carry a comrade on a stretcher or blanket over difficult terrain (sometimes up to a mile), to the nearest spot that could be safely reached by an ambulance – and then repeat the process again and again.

Below are some selected examples of the services they rendered.

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Sergeant William Moore Jones of Company K, 50th​ Georgia, was the beneficiary of perhaps the best care that one might expect from litter bearers during the Civil War. On the late afternoon of July 2, Jones was struck by an iron canister shot through his right ankle. He later wrote, “I lay upon the battlefield in the hot, broiling sun the balance of the day until eleven o’clock that night, when I heard the voices of the litter bearers of my company and called them to me. The names of the two parties were James Brice and Clem Humphreys [probably Privates David J. Brice and Clement C. Humphreys], who took me back to a barn where we started to make the charge, placed me on a pile of wheat straw and got me a canteen of water, which I drank with great relish. They then split open my boots and took my feet out of them. After bathing my broken limb they got me another canteen of water and left me to my fate for the balance of the night.” (Wounded & Captured at Gettysburg, Reminiscence by Sgt. William Jones, 50th​ Georgia, ed. by Keith Bohannon, Military Images, May-June 1988, pp. 14-15)

Sergeant Valerius C. “Val” Giles of Company B, 4th​ Texas recalled that John J. Haynes of his company worked hard and exposed himself recklessly as a member of the litter corps. On July 3, Haynes was seen approaching the front line when an enemy shell buried itself directly in front of him and exploded with a tremendous report. Giles and others who were watching thought he was blown to bits, but after the dust settled Haynes rose to his feet, wiped his brow with his sleeve, picked up his wool hat and began waving it as he yelled, “Hurrah for h---! D---- you, shoot again!” Brig. Gen. Jerome B. Robertson also witnessed the incident. A few minutes later, Robertson was shot from his horse and Haynes assisted him from the field. Robertson often spoke of Haynes as being the bravest man in the army. (Val Giles, Rags and Hope, The Recollections of Val C. Giles, Four Years with Hood’s Brigade, comp. and ed. by Mary Casswell, New York: Coward-McCann Inc., 1961)

On the afternoon of July 3, Privates Littleton Raines and Robert A. Upshaw of Company C, 9th​ Georgia came forward and lay down with the regiment behind a stone wall on the flank of the army, opposite Union cavalry under Brig. Gen. Farnsworth. After the latter’s charge was over, a wounded Federal of the 1st​ Vermont Cavalry was seen lying out in the open, about 50 feet from the wall. Captain George W. Hillyer, who had succeeded to the command of the regiment, told Raines to raise his stretcher above the wall and wave it. By then the stretcher was more red (with dried blood) than white, but it had the desired effect and soon the firing died down and ceased. Hillyer than ordered Raines and Upshaw to stand up on the wall and wave their stretcher over their heads. After a few Federals appeared from the bushes as confirmation of a temporary truce, Raines and Upshaw went forward and carried the cavalryman back to a shady spot behind the wall, where he was provided with water and made comfortable. (Address by George W. Hillyer, Vermont in the Civil War, First Cavalry Regiment History, http://vermontcivilwar.org/1cav/h/119.shtml)

On the late evening of July 2, the ambulance corps of the 10th​ Alabama, which comprised a detail of two men from each company, went beyond the picket line to scour the battlefield for wounded men. Meanwhile their Federal counterparts were engaged in the same duty, each side respecting an unwritten rule not to interfere with the other party as they went about gathering up their own comrades. As dawn approached, two Confederate litter bearers asked their opponents, who were close at hand, if they knew of any more Confederate wounded in the vicinity. They replied that a soldier of the 10th​ Alabama was there with a broken thigh. The Confederates asked if they could approach to retrieve him, and permission was granted. The groaning soldier was very gingerly placed upon the stretcher and brought back just as the day was breaking. Setting down their burden, the soldier surprised his bearers by standing up – he was not hurt at all. Thus a combatant was restored to the ranks. Possibly the weary litter bearers were not as impressed, but their reaction was not recorded. (Letters from Charles Wesley Foust, Company B, 10th​ Alabama)

Some litter bearers were conscientious and brave; others less so. Private Reuben Page of Company G, 148th​ Pennsylvania was detached in late 1862 to serve with the ambulance corps “and served most efficiently to the end; there was no risk he would not run to reach and carry off a wounded man” (Story of Our Regiment, ed. by Adj. J. W. Muffly). On July 1, Lieutenant John B. Ford of the 16th​ North Carolina was lying on the ground, face down, and dying. A fellow officer noticed a couple of litter bearers holding back at the edge of the wood behind them, and called upon them to come forward. But with the lead still flying, he could not prevail on them to do so, and Ford died a few minutes later (Lieutenant George H. Mills, G/16 NC, Histories of the Several Regiments and Battalions from North Carolina … vol. 4, p. 179). A member of the 11th​ Massachusetts recalled that “the ambulance corps, with the exception of a few faithful stretcher bearers, did not render any aid.” Even if a bearer was courageous, he might not always be applauded for it: “A stretcher bearer was badly wounded, and some surgeons expressed great surprise, and seemed to speak in terms of censure, because, unlike the majority of his rank, he had performed his duty upon the field, and incurred the dangers” (Three Years in the Army of the Potomac, by Henry Blake, 11 MA).

Removing the wounded while the battle was in progress was the sole official prerogative of the litter bearers, who could be recognized by red badges worn in their hats. For obvious reasons, a soldier on the firing line was not allowed to lay down his weapon to aid a wounded comrade, even if the latter happened to be a blood brother, which was by no means a rarity. However, exceptions to the rule occurred, especially when a senior officer or enlisted man was involved. Following a failed charge on Culp’s Hill, two soldiers of the 37th​ Virginia dragged their badly wounded orderly sergeant back out of immediate danger. The regimental adjutant, J. L. White, instructed them to take the sergeant to the field hospital, but they declined in accordance with standing orders, saying the ambulance corps was not up. The adjutant replied that he would give them a pass, then assigned four soldiers to the task. (The Battle of Gettysburg, Extracts from the Diary of Col. [Sir Arthur] Fremantle; Georce C. Pile, A/37 VA, as described in, The War Story of a Confederate Soldier Boy)

John Cabell Early, all of 15 years old, had joined his father on the staff of Maj. Gen. Early and on July 1 was asserting his new authority as a courier by ordering around some jaded veterans of the ambulance corps. He made the “stretcher men carry the wounded as fast as possible to the ambulances, that they might be taken to their respective hospitals.” Finding “two stretcher men lagging behind,” he insisted they should go at once to the front with him. “Some lively words” were exchanged, “which culminated in their proposing to thrash” the brash young man if he should dismount. He did so, but just then an officer rode up and ordered all of them back to work (A Southern Boy’s Experience at Gettysburg, by John C. Early). The laggards were likely more weary than obstinate. A soldier of the 124th​ New York recalled falling in “with a party of stretcher bearers with loaded stretchers. They were moving single file along what appeared to be a beaten path and said they belonged to the Third Corps. There were but two men to each stretcher; and they all seemed nearly worn out, and were trudging along very slowly with their heavy loads towards the hospital.” (New York at Gettysburg, 124 NY).

Some other identified Litter/Stretcher Bearers at Gettysburg:
-Private J. C. G. McKnight, D/8 GA (Diary of T. W. Clements, D/8 GA)
-Private Allen F. Harp, L/15 AL (“A good man” according to Colonel William C. Oates, War Between the Union and the Confederacy; Compiled Service Records/CSR)
-Private Samuel J. Ming, B/15 AL (Oates, ibid; CSR)
-Private John Hunter, C/13 MS (CSR)
-Private Obediah H. “Obe” Huson, G/4 GA (Reminiscences of Capt. John C. Key, B/44 GA)
-Private David Hutter, A/16 MS (CSR)
-Private Peter Murphy, A/16 MS (CSR)
-Private William B. Russom, B/24 GA

Other Sources:
-Voices from Company D (5th​ Alabama)
-Letters of Tip Harrison, 31 GA
-Account by A. J. Dula, 22 NC
-Account by Malachi Hovis, E/34 NC
-The Confederate Soldier, by Legrand James Wilson, Surgeon, 42 MS
-Major A. H. Below, 55 NC, account in Confederate Veteran magazine
-Charles Fuller, Personal Recollections, 61 NY
-Jonah Bayles, 7 WV, National Tribune
-History of the Third Regiment Excelsior Brigade, 72 NY
-At Gettysburg, by Charles W. Roberts, 17 ME
-History of the 12th​ Regiment New Hampshire, by Bartlett
-Memoir of Alexander W. Given, 114 PA
-Four Brothers in Blue, 22 MA
-History of the 37th​ Massachusetts, by James L. Bowen
-Account by Lt. Louis Fischer, 74 PA, Pioneer Company, 3rd​ Division, 11th​ Corps
 
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I always thought that litter or stretcher bearers were part of the medical corps of both armies and not chosen from each individual regiment. Well, I guess you learn something every day. Nevertheless, like the soldiers on the firing line, there were some who were very
brave and dedicated to their duties and those not going to risk their lives, even when another man's life was at stake. I wonder how many men were usually assigned to this role from each regiment and how they were selected?
 
I always thought that litter or stretcher bearers were part of the medical corps of both armies and not chosen from each individual regiment. Well, I guess you learn something every day. Nevertheless, like the soldiers on the firing line, there were some who were very
brave and dedicated to their duties and those not going to risk their lives, even when another man's life was at stake. I wonder how many men were usually assigned to this role from each regiment and how they were selected?

All good questions. Early in the war there may have been two litter bearers assigned from each company, for a normal total of 20, but by mid-1863 there were likely far fewer, because most regiments were down to a third or a quarter of their original strength. At Gettysburg, Confederate regiments would usually have two ambulances apiece, so if a stretcher was attached to each side, as was described by a Federal ambulance officer, that would require eight men, but even that number was likely the upper limit. Litter bearers took wounded from the front to the ambulances, whose drivers would carry them on to the hospitals. Certainly the bearers would have to be strong individuals.

Incidentally, the burden was heavy enough with just the wounded man, so weapons and accouterments like cartridge boxes, etc. were left behind on the field, to be collected later (if possible) by ordnance personnel for reissue.

During this battle, musicians were often recorded as assisting the assigned medical staff (two surgeons, steward, perhaps a couple of assistants) of the regiment in the forward or rear area hospitals, but sometimes acted as litter bearers just to move men to the operating table and back.
 
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musicians were usually recorded as assisting the assigned medical staff (two surgeons, steward, perhaps a couple of assistants) of the regiment in the forward or rear area hospitals, but were sometimes litter bearers just to move men to the operating table and back.

At least at Gettysburg, I know of at least one 14-year-old drummer boy that an officer tied a red rag around his arm and told him he was in the medical corps. I think that happened more often than not. If the need was great, whoever was available could be impressed into service if they weren't able to carry a gun.

And not all ambulance drivers were brave or good men. A young Johnny Reb of Maxcy Gregg's Brigade recalled the plight of one group of wounded in an ambulance on the northern side of the Potomac.

"At the edge of the river, and in the water, stood an ambulance filled with wounded men. The cowardly driver had unhitched his horses, crossed the river, and had left his suffering comrades to the mercy of the foe. The poor fellows begged piteously to be carried to the other side. General Gregg lifted his hat, and said to his soldiers, "My men, it is a shame to leave these poor fellows here in the water! Can't you take them over the river?" In an instant a dozen or more strong men laid hold on the ambulance and pulled it through the water in most places waist deep, amid the shouts of the rest, who sang, "Carry me back to old Virginia."

I have my suspicions that this wasn't the only ambulance driver that did this type of thing.
 
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