A paper presented to the Carlisle Fortnightly Club on March 13, 1899
In these days of rapid history making, when one important event follows closely upon another, and since our country has expanded her boundaries so that we not only say "our States and Territories", but we can add "our Colonies", we give a little gasp as we glance backward and realize what changes a few years have wrought.
Looking at an up to date map of that vast country beyond the Mississippi River, we see it covered with a network of black lines, indicating the trend of that great civilizer, the railroad. Again we try to realize that it is not yet much more than half a century since our geographies marked that western country as the "Great American Desert."
We will skip the rapid disillusion period regarding the unknown west and not lose sight of the fact that for this evening we look over only a small web in the weaving of a portion of history that entered into the life of an army officer's wife, stationed on the border of that then little known country, the great west.
Towards the close of a hot day in the month of July in the year 1867, a passenger train from the north moved slowly into the railroad station in the southern city of Memphis. Among the tired passengers was a young woman with her two-year old boy, whose eager questions, "Shall we see Papa now?" was quicldy silenced by the Mother's response, "Oh no, not now." She anxiously appealed to the kind-faced conductor to direct her to the hotel, named on a card held in her hand. The reply was, "My dear woman, you cannot go to that house, as it is closed to all guests. The whole city is panic-stricken by the plague, cholera. Your best plan is to go directly to the steamer which is at the wharf; although it does not leave for two days, they can care for you there." This young woman was the army wife, starting for the frontier and whose husband had preceded her by some two months. This roundabout route by river must be made in order to reach Indian Territory, sailing down the muddy Mississippi to the mouth of the Arkansas, then up the crooked and equally muddy Arkansas River to Fort Smith, where the young officer could come thus far on the way to meet his wife and child. A few days of rest at the town of Fort Smith, and again the travelers faced westward. A day and night's travel by river and they were at Fort Gibson, Indian Territory.
The introduction to army life was begun, all so strange to the newcomer, who was taking her first ride in an army ambulance [Editor's note: when this account was written, the term "ambulance" was used to denote a covered vehicle on springs, used not only to transport those wounded in battle, but also for other transportation where comfort was a consideration.] Entering the Post, the first impression was of uniformity, of sameness of whatever objects were in view; the line of soldiers marching by, all dressed alike, stepping as one man; the even rows of cottages, in line and all alike.
The ambulance stops, a tall handsome officer, with dangling sword worn at his side, lifts his plumed hat with courtly grace, and cordially greets the strangers, assists the lady from the ambulance and through the doorway of one of the cottages. A cheery voice speaking like an old friend, gives this greeting: "I am so glad that you have arrived safely. We belong to the same regiment, the 10th, and I have only been here a few weeks."
Soon others joined the group and the kinship of military brotherhood was rapidly established with the new arrivals.
And dear sisters of the C. F. C., please allow me to pass from the third to the first pronoun, as I relate that in the day and a half that I remained at Fort Gibson, I caught the spirit of soldierly courage. No recollection comes to me now that we discussed the merits of brave deeds, or the need of cultivating courage, bur the spirit of fortitude was ever present. Scouring expeditions were talked over, the management of cholera cases considered, all with as little excitement as we here would speak of the best form of an afternoon tea. All along our route from Memphis and still at Gibson that monster, the plague, held sway, although its power had considerably lessened to one death a day at that time.
Read the entire article