Civil
War Interrupts a Courtship by
Alan Borer
Albert Einstein, who was a pacifist, once said, “Older
men start wars, but younger men fight them.“
During the bloody Civil War of 1861-65, Ohio found many soldiers from
men in the middle. Too old to spend
years on the battlefield, men in their thirties and forties could sign on as
“hundred day volunteers,” serving in the Union Army as prison guards, in transport
units, and surveillance. At the end of
their hundred days, they would get a bonus payment, an eventual soldier’s
pension, and be able to march in Fourth of July parades with heads held high.
Not every hundred day volunteer was middle aged. W. L.
Mallow (1843-1911) of New Holland, Ohio, in Pickaway County was 29 when he
headed north to join the army. Mallow
was a farmer most of his life, and never moved far from his hometown. But in September of 1862, he did come north
to Lima, and tried to enlist in the army.
For whatever reason, he had to wait until 1864, when he enlisted as a
hundred day volunteer. He served his
time, then moved back to New Lisbon. The
reason he may have remembered greatest his trip to Lima made on him was that it
seems to have interrupted a budding romance.
This is his story.
Mallow lived an uneventful life until the start of
the war, uneventful as far as printed records go. We do know that around 1862 he took an
interest in a girl named Margaret Kearney (or Kerney) who lived in the neighborhood. Maggie, as she was known, was the daughter of
an Irish immigrant, and was eighteen in 1862.
A letter survives from Mallow to his (potential?) sweetheart, with its
nineteenth century mix of stilted English and rough spelling. Part of it goes thusly:
Ever
since I first caught the smiles and glance of affection that rested upon your
brow – but yet Experience in courtship recalls the past night when our hearts
could palpitate in pure amity – simultaneous – but the time when I last kissed
your Blooming cheeks that is dampled [sic] with the hues of life – and bid thee
farewell
But after reporting this memory,
Mallow went on to say that he was answering the call of the soldier:
As
the excitement and perils of our country has almost caused me to forget you . .
. . if I never again meet you in your own
land – but if I must be stricken to the blood stained field as the spark that smitten steel – may we meet in the Land
beyond this vale of sorrow. I am
enjoying good health and I hope you are enjoying the same health. I must close my scribbling for I am pledged
so with the boys give my compliments to
all the girls – and my Remember me. W.
L. Mallow Camp Lima Allen co Ohio
By the time Mallow had sent this guardedly
passionate letter, he had gone north to Lima, and the nearest Union recruiting
station. “The Organization of new
regiments began July 7,” in response to a call from Governor David Tod on July
7, 1862. Among the camps established by
his General Order number 18, Toledo, Cleveland, Mansfield and Lima were
established to receive, train, and mobilize fresh recruits. “Camp Lima was sited on 15 acres of high
ground south of town. . . . near the old Hindell Mill, along the Shawnee Road
across the Ottawa River.”
The
camp opened on August 6, 1862, but was not fully provisioned. Lima citizens were called on for blankets and
other hospital supplies. One witness,
however, reported that the “health of
the Camp is said to be first rate,” and that sanitation was excellent. About 1600 men called Camp Lima home during
the month of August. When soldiers left
for the fighting, they moved south by railroad.[i]
But
despite William Mallow’s presence at Camp Lima that summer of ’62, he did not
join the army and face the “perils” at that time. At 29, he may have already been past prime enlistment
age. Or he may have been sick at the
time the units were formed. In any
event, he headed back to New Holland, and bided his time.
Less
than two years later, on May 8, 1864, W. L. Mallow enlisted in the 149th
Ohio Volunteer Infantry, a hundred days company. This time he traveled south
to Camp Dennison, near Cincinnati, and after being outfitted, was sent to
Baltimore, Maryland. His unit did guard
duty in and around Baltimore, and unlike some hundred day men, was under fire
several times, notably at the battles of Monocacy Junction (Maryland, July 9),
and Berryville (Virginia, August 13).
Their hundred days being finished, they were mustered out of the army on
August 30, 1864. Four of Mallow’s
comrades died in battle, and a wretched 38 more died of “disease.”
The
reader may be thinking that Private Mallow went home, married his Irish girl,
and lived happily after. Mallow did
marry on June 20, 1867, but to a woman named Zilpha A. Thomas. They lived several years in Ross County, but
in retirement the couple came back to New Holland. There is no record of their ever having
children. Zipha died first in 1910, then
William in 1911. The coroner noted on
his death certificate that he died of “exhaustion from an inability to take
food.”[ii] Of Maggie Kearney there is no further trace.
I read
many old letters in my work. Letters
about war, work, births and deaths; all are fair game for the historian who
wants to recreate lives long past. Occasionally,
I stumble across a letter about a love affair.
Those are a bit touchy; certainly I do not want to expose anyone’s
descendants to embarrassment or expose secrets that belong to private families. But all the characters in this tiny opera are
dead more than a hundred years, and the story of William Mallow has some
interesting highlights. Lessons, if any,
may be drawn by the reader.
[i]
Kevin B. McCray, A Shouting of Orders: A History
of the 99th Volunteer Infantry Regiment. (Bloomington, IN: Xlibris, 2003.
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