[Congressional Record Volume 144, Number 82 (Monday, June 22, 1998)]
[Senate]
[Pages S6829-S6830]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




       COMMEMORATION OF THE NATIONAL MUSEUM OF CIVIL WAR MEDICINE

 Mr. KEMPTHORNE. Mr. President, I would to take a moment to 
speak about the National Museum of Civil War Medicine, in Frederick, 
Maryland, which I recently had the great honor of once again visiting.
  On September 17, 1862, the Union and Confederacy engaged in a massive 
engagement at Sharpsburg, Maryland, which was also known as the Battle 
of Antietam, so named after the small creek around which Union troops 
were consolidated. Confederate General Robert E. Lee and his 40,000 
Southern troops were pitted against Federal General George B. McClellan 
and 87,000 Union soldiers. Quotations researched by the Antietam 
National Battlefield staff and volunteers help us visualize the battle 
and its toll.

       On the forenoon of the 15th, the blue uniforms of the 
     Federals appeared among the trees that crowned the heights on 
     the eastern bank of the Antietam. The number increased, and 
     larger and larger grew the field of the blue until it seemed 
     to stretch as the eye could see, and from the tops of the 
     mountains down to the edges of the stream gathered the great 
     army of McClellan.--Lt. Gen. James Longstreet, CSA, 
     Commander, Longstreet's Corps, Army of Northern Virginia.
       We were massed `in column by company' in a cornfield; the 
     night was close, air heavy . . . some rainfall . . . The air 
     was perfumed with a mixture of crushed green corn stalks, 
     ragweed, and clover. We made our beds between rows of corn 
     and would not remove our accouterments.--Private Miles C. 
     Huyette, Company B, 125th Pennsylvania Infantry.
       Suddenly a stir beginning far up on the right, and running 
     like a wave along the

[[Page S6830]]

     line, brought the regiment to its feet. A silence fell on 
     everyone at once, for each felt that the momentous `now' had 
     come.--Pvt. David L. Thompson, Company G, 9th New York 
     Volunteers.
       In the time that I am writing every stalk of corn in the 
     northern and greater part of the field was cut as closely as 
     could have been done with a knife, and the slain lay in rows 
     precisely as they had stood in their ranks a few moments 
     before. It was never my fortune to witness a more bloody, 
     dismal battlefield.--Maj. General Joseph Hooker, USA, 
     Commander, I Corps, Army of the Potomac.

  Antietam became the bloodiest day in American history. At the close 
of the day, more men were wounded or killed at Antietam than on any 
other single day of the Civil War: 12,410 Union troops, and 10,700 
Confederates.

  Whether Union or Confederate, when a soldier fell on the battlefield, 
he was an American. Frederick, Maryland, was the recipient of the 
thousands of fallen soldiers.
  The National Museum of Civil War Medicine, in Frederick, seeks to 
highlight the sacrifice made by countless American soldiers in their 
quest to advance the values of this great nation that was, as Abraham 
Lincoln explained, ``conceived in liberty.'' In fact, those slain on 
the battlefield at Antietam were prepared for burial in the very 
building that now houses the National Museum of Civil War Medicine.

       The force of a mini ball or piece of shell striking any 
     solid portion of a person is astonishing; it comes like a 
     blow from a sledge hammer, and the recipient finds himself 
     sprawling on the ground before he is conscious of being hit; 
     then he feels about for the wound, the benumbing blow 
     deadening sensation for a few moments. Unless struck in the 
     head or about the heart, men mortally wounded live some time, 
     often in great pain, and toss about upon the ground.--History 
     of the 35th Massachusetts Volunteers.
       Under the dark shade of a towering oak near the Dunker 
     Church lay the lifeless form of a drummer boy, apparently not 
     more than seventeen years of age, flaxen hair and eyes of 
     blue and form of delicate mould. As I approached him I 
     stooped down and as I did so I perceived a bloody mark upon 
     his forehead . . . It showed where the leaden messenger of 
     death had produced the wound that caused his death. His lips 
     were compressed, his eyes half open, a bright smile played 
     upon his countenance. By his side lay his tenor drum, never 
     to be tapped again.--Pvt. J.D. Hicks, Company K, 125th 
     Pennsylvania Volunteers.

  ``It is well war is so frightful,'' General Lee wrote, ``otherwise we 
should become too fond of it.'' Indeed, this museum allows the visitor 
to get a feel for the ravages of war. Located in the museum are 
numerous exhibits detailing how Civil War-era doctors and nurses dealt 
with the wounded and near-dead who were brought off the battlefield to 
be cared for.

       Comrades with wounds of all conceivable shapes were brought 
     in and placed side by side as thick as they could lay, and 
     the bloody work of amputation commenced.--George Allen, 
     Company A, 6th New York Volunteers.

  The former Surgeon General of the United States, C. Everett Koop, has 
remarked that the Civil War represented a ``watershed in American 
medical history.'' The visitor to this museum becomes keenly aware of 
this, and learns of Civil War-era medical advances in the fields of 
anesthesia, surgery, sanitation, and the introduction of mobile medical 
corps to the armed forces.

  Mr. President, I find that I have a personal bond to the town of 
Frederick, this museum, and what it represents. My great-grandfather, 
Charles Kempthorne, was a member of Company Three of the Third Regiment 
of the Wisconsin Infantry Volunteers. He, like many other brave 
soldiers, was wounded on September 17, 1862, at the Battle of Antietam. 
It was in the town of Frederick that his wounds were treated and he 
began his convalescence. In time he was transferred to Washington, 
D.C., where he served until he was honorably discharged on June 29, 
1864.
  Commemoration is indeed an important duty, not only to honor the 
dead, but also to keep alive the ideals that they died for. Mr. 
President, I am pleased to see that the National Museum for Civil War 
Medicine has undertaken the important task of remembering a crucial 
component of Civil War history.
  I would like to commend those people who have made the National 
Museum of Civil War Medicine a reality. Dr. Gordon E. Dammann, Dr. F. 
Terry Hambrecht, JaNeen Smith, Debbie Moone, and volunteers Dianne 
Marvinney, Rebecca Coffey, Bill Witt, among many others, are doing an 
excellent job with the museum.
  On behalf of my great-grandfather, Charles Kempthorne, I say thank 
you to the community of Frederick for its compassion so many years ago, 
and as a citizen I commend the National Museum of Civil War Medicine 
for helping those of us today realize that the cost of freedom did not 
come easy, but was often achieved with the loss of blood and life by 
brave Americans on both sides.

       Both before and after a battle, sad and solemn thoughts 
     come to the soldier. Before the conflict they were of 
     apprehension; after the strife there is a sense of relief; 
     but the thinned ranks, the knowledge that the comrade who 
     stood by your side in the morning never will stand there 
     again, bring inexpressible sadness--Charles Carleton Coffin, 
     Army Correspondent, Boston Journal.

                          ____________________