A look at. . .Brigadier General Thomas Welsh

It is really no big secret that I have an especially strong interest in the 9th Corps. And it's not just because the 48th Pennsylvania served in the corps from start to finish. The 9th Corps was seemingly everywhere throughout the war. . .from the shores of the Carolinas, to Virginia, to Maryland, to Kentucky, to Tennessee, Mississippi, and back to Virginia. Everywhere that is, except Gettysburg. It is remembered by many as the "wandering corps," and its' soldiers took pride in the fact that the dead of the 9th Corps lay buried in no less than seven states. I also enjoy studying the 9th Corps because I am a fan of the underdog. It seems as if the 9th Corps gets little respect in popular memory, its image tarnished because of its association with Ambrose Burnside. . .and because the corps did not fight at Gettysburg, it seems as if it is not as highly regarded as, say, the 2nd Corps, the "glory" boys of the Army of the Potomac who could do no wrong.

Oh, and the 9th Corps had the coolest of all corps badges:

9th Corps Badge

(www.100thpenn.com/9thArmyCorps)

I also enjoy studying the lives of the Civil War's lesser-known figures, so today I thought I would combine the two and upload a brief biographical sketch of Brigadier General Thomas Welsh, an overlooked soldier in an overlooked/underappreciated corps. . .Special emphasis is placed on Welsh's role at Antietam.

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Brigadier General Thomas Welsh

1824-1863

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A leading citizen of Columbia, Pennsylvania, Thomas Welsh twice left civilian life behind to tender his services to the United States in its times of need, first in its war with Mexico, and then in its war with itself. Personally brave, Welsh proved himself to be a hard fighter and competent officer in both of these wars, who survived a grievous wound at the 1847 battle of Buena Vista only to succumb to malaria during the Civil War. Born and raised in Columbia, Welsh found work as a canal boat operator and then entered the lumber business before volunteering as a private in the 2nd Kentucky Infantry upon the outbreak of war with Mexico. Quickly promoted to the rank of sergeant, Welsh survived his wound at Buena Vista and was later commissioned as a 2nd lieutenant in the 11th United States Infantry. After being mustered out of the service in August 1848, Welsh returned to Columbia where he entered upon a lucrative career as a merchant. In the years before the Civil War, he also served his community as a justice of the peace.
When civil war erupted with the firing on Fort Sumter in April 1861, Welsh quickly organized a company of three-month volunteers. Entering the service as captain of this company, which was attached to the 11th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, Welsh was made lieutenant-colonel of the regiment, no doubt owing to his service in the war with Mexico and his standing in the community. After the expiration of his three-month term of service, during which time he had served under General Robert Patterson in that officer’s ill-fated campaign in the Shenandoah Valley, Welsh helped raise the 45th Pennsylvania, a three-year regiment. Reentering service as colonel of this regiment in October 1861, Welsh and his men were initially attached to Horatio Wright’s division and assigned to duty along the South Carolina coast before being transferred to Virginia in the summer of 1862. On August 3, Colonel Welsh was made commander of the 2nd Brigade of the 9th Corps’s First Division, commanded during the Maryland Campaign by Orlando Willcox.
During the late morning hours of September 17, 1862, while Sam Sturgis’s brigades battled their way across the Lower Bridge, Welsh and his men were held in reserve. After the bridge was finally carried, Welsh’s Brigade—consisting of the 45th & 100th Pennsylvania, the 8th Michigan, and the 46th New York—crossed the Antietam with Willcox’s other brigade under the command of Benjamin Christ. Welsh’s Brigade formed into line on the left of Christ’s Brigade, with its own left loosely aligned with the right flank of Harrison Fairchild’s Brigade of Rodman’s Division. Some two hours passed before the Ninth Corps line, stretching one mile in length, was finally ready to advance. Welsh’s men pushed slowly but steadily forward, over undulating ground and in the face of Confederate sharpshooters positioned behind haystacks and the outbuildings on the Otto Farm. Heavy cannon fire, raking Welsh’s men from the heights to their front and left, also hindered their advance. Citing lack of support of both his flanks, Welsh ordered his men to halt. Confederate troops to Welsh’s front were by this time streaming through the streets of Sharpsburg. For a few moments it seemed as if one more united and determined push by Willcox’s Division might break the tenuous Confederate line and block Lee’s only line of retreat. A.P. Hill’s attack against Rodman’s exposed left flank, however, put an end to any possibility of such an attack. With the collapse of Ninth Corps’s left, Welsh and his men were ordered to fall back to a position near the bridge, and here they stayed until relieved the following morning by George Morell’s Fifth Corps troops. For their efforts, Welsh’s Brigade lost 94 men killed, wounded, or missing.
Two and a half months after the battle of Antietam, on November 29, 1862, Welsh was promoted to brigadier general of volunteers. With the reorganization of the Army of the Potomac before the Fredericksburg Campaign, however, Welsh found himself back in command of the 45th Pennsylvania, his rank notwithstanding. Following the Union debacle at Fredericksburg, Welsh was transferred west with General Burnside and was again placed in brigade command. Just a few weeks later, Welsh assumed command of the Ninth Corps’s First Division, which he led during the siege of Vicksburg, Mississippi. Sadly, Welsh did not have long to live after the surrender of that city. On August 6, 1863, he fell seriously ill with chills and a high fever. Taken by steamer to Cairo, Illinois, Welsh remained on board until a suitable railroad car could be found to transfer him to Cincinnati. Finally arriving there some eight days later, Welsh was taken to a private residence where he died the same day. The thirty-nine-year-old citizen-soldier was the victim of malarial fever. Disease, the number one killer of Civil War soldiers, knew no rank. Welsh’s remains were transported back to his hometown of Columbia, Pennsylvania, for burial in the Mount Bethel Cemetery.

"The Last Sad Honors:" The Funeral of General James Nagle

Brigadier General James Nagle

James Nagle was a remarkable man. He organized a milita company at the age of 18, fought in the Mexican-American War as a captain of infantry, and, during the Civil War, raised, organized, and commanded no less than four regiments of Pennsylvania volunteers. A brigadier general, he also led a brigade at the battles of 2nd Bull Run, South Mountain, Antietam, and Fredericksburg. Had it not been for the heart disease that forced his resignation from the army in May 1863, he no doubt would have risen to division command, and, perhaps to major general.

He never attended West Point, or received any type of formal military training, but in camp and on the battlefield, he was, nontheless, a more than competent officer.

But the military was not his whole story. He was also a faithful husband and the devoted father of seven. When not in the army, he worked for his housepainting and wallpaper-hanging business, and served a term as sheriff of Schuylkill County. He was also on the Pottsville School Board, and was a member and then president of the borough council.

Despite all of this, Nagle remains a forgotten figure. For all the tens of thousands of books published on the American Civil War, it seems strange that there are those who still dwell in the vast halls of historical obscurity. And James Nagle, regrettably, is one of them.

During his short life, he was able to accomplish much, and in Schuylkill County he was an esteemed and respected figure. Testament to the high regard in which he was held was his funeral, held on Saturday, August 25, 1866. He died the previous Wednesday, August 22, at 4:00 a.m., in his Pottsville home, surrounded by his family. He was only 44 years old when he died.

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The Miners' Journal, Schuylkill County's leading newspaper, described at length the funeral of Brigadier General James Nagle. It is reprinted below:

General James Nagle.-Sincere sorrow pervaded this community on Wednesday morning last, when the fact of Gen. Nagle’s death became known. The sad event was not unexpected, for he had suffered for years from disease of the heart and liver, and during the past few weeks it was evident to his friends that he was succumbing to the attacks of adversaries too powerful for medicine to combat successfully. He died on Wednesday morning at 4 o’clock at his residence in this Borough. A brave soldier of two wars; a good citizen; an estimable man, has passed away. While the memory of his worth will remain green in the memories of this community in which so many years of his useful life were spent, his name will be inscribed with honor on the pages of his country’s history.

The Funeral of Gen. James Nagle. The remains of Gen. Nagle were interred in the Presbyterian Cemetery on Saturday afternoon last with military honors.
During the morning the Ringgold Band of Reading, which had volunteered to play on the occasion, the Ashland Veterans, Capt. McLaughlin, and the Cumbola Nagle Guards reached the borough to attend the funeral. At noon Capt. Binder of Philadelphia, a companion-in-arms of Gen. Nagle in the Mexican War, having been in the same Regiment, Gen. Albright of Carbon County, and Major Bertolette of Reading, also arrived to assist in playing the last sad honors to the remains of the dead soldier.
The body was viewed by hundreds before the hour of moving from the late residence of the deceased General. The corpse was attired in citizens’ dress, and rested in a coffin furnished by Mr. John Kalbach, Centre Street opposite the Union Hotel. It was made of walnut covered with black cloth, and the ornamentation was faultless, reflecting great credit on the taste of the maker. A silver plate on the lid bore the General’s name and age. The entire workmanship was the subject of much and just commendation. When the coffin was placed in the hearse it was covered with a silk national flag with a black rosette in each corner. On the top rested the sword which was presented to Gen. Nagle by the citizens of Schuylkill County, after his return from Mexico.
About 3 o’clock the cortege moved from the house in the following order, left in front:

Hydranlian Fire Company
American Hose Company
Humane Hose Company
Good Intent Fire Engine Company
Cumbola Nagle Guards
Washington Artillery Company
Ashland Veterans
Grant Zouaves, Pottsville
Ringgold Band, Reading
Soldiers Central League, Pottsville
Detachment of Soldiers in Mexican War
Who were in Gen. Nagle’s Company, bear-
Ing the old Company flag.
Officiating Clergy
Hearse
Pall Bearers—Gen. Wm. W. Duffield, Gen. Geo. C.
Wynkoop, gen. H. Pleasants, Gen. Albright,
Gen. J.A. Hennessy, Col. J.M. Wetherill
Horse and Groom
Mourners
Mounted Officers in Uniform
Gen. J.K. Sigfried and Staff

The cortege which contained about six hundred persons, moved over the following route: From house to Market Street; down market to Centre; down Centre to Mahantango; up Mahantango to Clay; down Clay to Howard Avenue; down Howard Avenue to the Cemetery.
All places of business were closed during the passage of the funeral train, and many houses along the route were clothed in mourning while flags were suspended at half mast and craped. The streets were filled with silent and mournful spectators. Minute guns were fired from Lawton’s Hill until the cortege reached the Cemetery.
The religious services at the grave were conducted by Rev. Mr. McCool, rev. Mr. Cook and Rev. Mr. Billheimer. Mr. McCool delivered an impressive discourse, in which he dwelt at length upon the life, character, and services of Gen. Nagle. It was listened to attentively by the large concourse of persons present, which must have numbered between two and three thousand.
The last military honors were paid by the Grant Zouaves who fired three vollies over the grave.
The military then returned to Centre Street, where the line was dismissed.
It was one of the largest and most imposing funerals ever seen here, the entire community evincing sincere sorrow at the loss of an estimable citizen, a brave soldier, a patriot, whose career will ever be referred to with pride by our citizens, and whose memory will be cherished while our hills endure.

Soldiers of the 48th: Lieutenant M.M. Kistler, Co. I, And His "Remarkable Tenacity of Life."

Michael M. Kistler was 32 years old when he was mustered into service as a lieutenant in Company I, 48th Pennsylvania Infantry, on August 15, 1861. At 5'11", he was among the tallest soldiers in the regiment, and before the war, he labored as a farmer in the small Schuylkill County village of Ringtown. Surviving the battles that comprised Ambrose Burnside's North Carolina Expedition throughout the winter of 1861-1862 as welll as 2nd Bull Run, Chantilly, and South Mountain unscathed, Kistler fell with a grievous wound on September 17, 1862.

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While googling the 48th Pennsylvania several years ago, I came across this interesting article that appeared in the March 16, 1864, supplement of the Boston Herald.

"Remarkable Tenacity of Life: Lieut. M.M. Kistler, formerly of the 48th Pennsylvania Volunteers, who still survives, and is commanding a company in the Invalid Corps, was pronounced by the surgeons who examined him after the battle [of Antietam], as he lay among the dead--himself almost as dead apparently as they--mortally wounded, and he was passed by at the time, and the attention of the surgeons was devoted to others, for whom it was thought there might be a chance of recovery. The fortunes of the day seemed to vacillate in the balance as the massive columns surged back and forth, and for a time the field was in possession of the rebels; again our brave fellows drove back the rebel columns, and took the ground where our wounded were lying, weltering in their gore, and in the evening the brave and undaunted Lieutenant was carried from the field by our own men, and laid down in an old barn without blanket or overcoat. His clothes on his right side, from his shoulder down to his boot, being saturated with blood from his wound, were cold and stiff. It was at Antietam he was wounded, by a ball entering his right shoulder in a way to carry his epaulatte into the wound, and part of it with the ball entered the right lobe of the lungs. The wound was probed by no less than eight or nine surgeons, three or four at a time. They exceeded in extracting from the wound the wire, four or five inches in lenght, belonging to the shoulder strap, and all agreed there were fractured pieces of bone necessary to be extracted, but they neither removed them nor dressed the wound, considering the case a hopeless one. The Lieutenant alone believed his recovery a possible case. Thus he laid suffering in his gore until the sixth day when he received a change of clothing, and on the seventh day, with the assistance of his servant, he started, both feeble and faint, and reached his home. On the thirteenth day after receiving the wound, it was for the first time thoroughly dressed, by Dr. J.C. Schirner, of Tamaqua, Penn. Suppuration had by this time taken place, and he spit up a portion of the shoulder strap with the body matter. The ball still remains in the lungs too heavy to be raised by the efforts made in coughing, where an abscess is formed by the wound in the lung, and suppuration takes place, as it frequently does. He now usually enjoys a reasonable degree of health, with the exception of a few days each time that these inward gatherings take place.

This we regard as one of the most remarkable cases of recovery, from what would be regarded by all surgeons as a hopeless case, on record. When we contemplate a man with such a wound, lying for thirteen days without any efficient surgical or medical aid, and without any change of clothing for six days, and in the main cold and damp, without food or attention, we cannot but be struck with amazement at the wonderful recuperative powers of the system, in the case of the indomitable Lieut. Kistler. We would naturally suppose he must have suffered untold misery during those thirteen days, but he says he suffered but little, comparatively speaking. His sensibilities must have been instantly stunned. He is a living miracle to all who know his case. While a slight wound hurries many a strong man to an untimely grave, a strong constitution, a determined and indomitable spirit, and, may we not add, a kind Providence had lengthened out his days for further service in the cause of his country."

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Following his wound at Antietam, Kistler was naturally discharged from the 48th Pennsylvania, but following his recovery, returned to the army as an officer in the Veteran's Reserve Corps. Regrettably, I have not been able to find anything on Kistler's post-war life. . .but I'll keep looking.

Thanks. . .

On this Veteran's Day, I would like to take the opportunity to thank two American soldiers for their service: my grandfather, Nicholas Mitsock, and my dad, David W. Hoptak.

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Private First Class Nicholas Mitsock

US Army

My grandfather, Nicholas Mitsock, was a first-generation American. He was born on April 7, 1927, in the small coal mining community of Llewellyn in Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania. He entered the army on December 10, 1945, at the age of 18, and was mustered in as a private in the Headquarters Company, 30th US Infantry Regiment, 3rd Division. He was sent to Europe, and was detailed as a truck driver and truck mechanic. He remained stationed at Stuttgart, Germany, until his discharge in April 1947. He returned to Schuylkill County, found work as a coal miner, married my grandmother, and fathered five children; my mother, Colleen, being born in 1951.

In 1957, my grandfather was killed in a mine collapse.

My grandfather's discharge paper. . .

Nick Mitsock, playin' ball for the Branch Township team. . .

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Sergeant David W. Hoptak

US Army

My dad, David Hoptak, was born on July 30, 1946. He graduated high school in 1965, turned 19, and was promptly drafted into the US Army. He did his basic training at Fort Gordon, Georgia, and trained with the M42 tank at Fort Bliss, Texas. In late 1966, he was sent to Vietnam as a soldier in the 1st Battalion, 44th Artillery. He spent the next year stationed at Con Thien, immediately south of the DMZ. He rose to the rank of sergeant, and commanded an M-42 Twin Duster tank. While stationed at Con Thien, his tank battalion was supported by the 3rd US Marine Division, and saw significant combat. The 1st/44th was one of the most highly decorated units in the Vietnam War. In December 1967, my dad was discharged from the army. He boarded the plane at Dong Ha, and began the long journey home.

My dad at Con Thien. . .

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Happy Veteran's Day. And to all our current and former members of the armed services, thank you.

Monument no match for lightning. . .

A month ago, on October 9, the monument to the 6th New York Cavalry here in Gettysburg was (severely) damaged by what must have been a tremendous bolt of lightning. You can read the full story here: http://www.nps.gov/gett/parknews/6th-new-york-cavalry-monument-damaged.htm




I was out on the battlefield yesterday, and snapped a few photos of the damage. I'm just glad this lightning bolt didn't strike me!

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Front view of monument (fronting Buford Avenue)

. . .the damage here is significant, but wait until you see. . .

the back!

Apparently one of the turrets was blown to smithereens. . .

From the front, again. . .

Poor Bill Christian. . .

I guess not everyone is cut out to be a soldier. Take Colonel William Christian for example. Now, I feel somewhat bad for poor Bill. A leading member of his community, he sought more prominence by serving in the military. He had militia experience, and was a veteran of the Mexican-American War, although he saw no combat. Back in the army as an officer in the Civil War, Christian proved that, yes, even officers were human. He simply ran away from battle at Antietam, and suffered for it throughout the rest of his life. He was a human being, and he got scared. . .thousands of soldiers did, and thousands showed the white feather in battle. But it just wasn't expected of officers.

Below is a short biography of Colonel William Christian I wrote initially for my colleagues at Antietam. . . .His is truly a sad story.

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Colonel William Christian

A strict disciplinarian who served during the Mexican-American War and as drillmaster for the Utica, New York, city militia, William Henry Christian certainly had the credentials of an officer. A surveyor and engineer by trade, Christian sought to make his mark in the military and got off to a promising start. As events proved, however, Christian was never cut out for battlefield command. As colonel of the 26th New York Infantry, he stayed out of the action at Second Bull Run, claiming illness. Then as a brigade commander at the battle of Antietam, he became unnerved and fled in the face of the enemy. He grew increasingly despondent afterwards and ultimately slipped into a state of insanity, dying an inmate of a New York asylum. His story is truly a sad one.
William Henry Christian was born on April 9, 1825, in Utica, New York. Little about his childhood remains known, but with the outbreak of war with Mexico in 1846, twenty-one-year-old Christian enlisted as a private in Company K, 1st New York Volunteers. He spent the first two months of his enlistment on Governor’s Island being trained in the ways of the soldier and then sailed for San Francisco where his regiment remained for the duration of the Mexican-American War. Although Christian saw no battles, he must have impressed his superiors with his mastery of drill, for, in a very short time, he was promoted through the ranks until he was mustered out of service as his company’s first sergeant.
Following the war with Mexico, Christian, instead of returning to his native New York, stayed in California, being swept up, perhaps, with “gold fever.” For the next seven years, Christian made his home in San Francisco where he found work as a school teacher. He also took up the study of engineering, and when he finally made his way back to Utica in 1854 was appointed as the city’s surveyor. While pursuing this career, Christian played an active role in Utica’s militia, serving as drillmaster during the years immediately preceding the outbreak of civil war.
Soon after the surrender of Fort Sumter, thirty-six-year-old William Christian traveled to Albany where he personally asked Governor Edwin Morgan for permission to raise a regiment of volunteers. With his Mexican-American War experience, limited though it was, coupled with his standing in the Utica militia, Christian was granted his request and he returned to his hometown to establish a recruiting station. With his regiment—the 26th New York Volunteer Infantry—organized within weeks, Colonel Christian immediately went to work drilling his new command. On the training field and on the parade ground, Christian excelled as an officer. A strict disciplinarian, Christian was also a very virtuous man. He forbade, for example, the consumption of alcohol in his regiment, and even requested that his line officers sign a pledge of temperance. Sadly, although Christian looked and certainly acted the part of a capable military man, his battlefield performance proved otherwise.
Marched off to war, the 26th New York helped cover the retreat of the Union forces at Bull Run in late July 1861, and Colonel Christian even received the praise of Abraham Lincoln for the handling of his men here. With the organization of the Army of the Potomac later that summer, the 26th New York was assigned to General Henry Slocum’s Brigade. On October 3, 1861, Slocum selected Colonel Christian to lead an expedition of some 350 men to march on and capture a detachment of Confederate cavalry encamped near Pohick Church, some twelve miles from where Slocum’s Brigade was stationed at Alexandria. The entire operation was a disaster; not only did the Confederate cavalrymen escape intact, but Christian’s men proceeded to pillage the Virginia countryside on their way back to Alexandria. What is more, one of Christian’s men accidentally killed another. Furious with Christian, Slocum demanded a court of inquiry, which was granted, but the matter was apparently dropped before the court convened. Slocum was able, however, to get Christian and the 26th New York transferred out of his command. Less than one month after the Pohick Church fiasco, the 26th was sent to Fort Lyon—one of Washington’s many defensive works—where William Christian, being the senior commander stationed there, assumed command of the post.
For more than five months, the 26th New York remained stationed at Fort Lyon. During this time, Colonel Christian continued to drill his command and did so with his newlywed wife by his side. On November 6, 1861, William Christian and Mary Timmerman were married and the two took up residence at Fort Lyon until marching orders arrived in late May 1862. Assigned to General Irvin McDowell’s corps, Christian and his men spent the following months stationed near Falmouth and Manassas and would not see any action until late August at the Second Battle of Bull Run. On August 30, 1862, the 26th New York lost nearly two hundred men in its baptism by fire; they had performed well, but did so without their leader. As the regiment was marching into battle, Christian was seen laying in the shade of a tree, wrapped in a blanket. A physician by his side, Christian watched as his men paraded past. He claimed that he was suffering from heatstroke as well as from a severe case of poison ivy on his hands. However, late that same night, with the battle over, Christian rode his horse into the ranks of his regiment, which was then falling back toward Centreville, waving the brigade flag and offering words of encouragement to the troops. The men were unimpressed and just a little suspicious about Christian’s rapid recovery from whatever ailed him that morning. Then, after discovering that Christian, being the senior colonel, assumed brigade command following the wounding of General Zealous Tower earlier in the day, the officers of the 26th were concerned. They held a secret meeting that night and debated whether they should petition their division commander, General James Ricketts, to remove Christian from brigade command. They ultimately decided against such a drastic measure.
Christian turned in competent performances at Chantilly on September 1, 1862, and at South Mountain two weeks later, but his brigade was only lightly engaged at each of these battles. They would be heavily engaged, however, at Antietam, and it was here that Christian completely fell apart. Crossing the Antietam Creek on the afternoon of September 16, Christian’s Brigade went into position near the Samuel Poffenberger Farm, on the left of the First Corps line. Early the next morning, Christian’s men formed into line of battle and readied themselves for the battle ahead. Joseph Hooker, commanding the First Corps, planned for the divisions Doubleday and Ricketts to move forward simultaneously at dawn, but when the orders arrived things went bad. Ricketts fell with a severe wound, as did General George Hartsuff, commanding one of Ricketts’s Brigades. Christian’s men moved forward but when they cleared the North Woods they came under a murderous fire from Confederate artillery posted to their front and right. Christian halted his men and then did what he knew best—ordered his men to make a series of parade-ground maneuvers in the face of the Confederate shot and shell. Moving forward and then by flank across some four hundred yards of open ground, Christian’s men finally arrived in the East Woods, where their commander finally became unhinged. Upon arriving in the woodlot, Christian dismounted and then ran back towards the North Woods, supposedly ducking and dodging his head with each cannon shot, exclaiming that all was lost and that the army was in full retreat. Meanwhile, his men were simply astonished and, worse, did not what to do next. Ricketts demanded to know why Christian’s men came to a stop and upon discovering the situation ordered General Truman Seymour, of George Meade’s Third Division, First Corps, to take command of the leaderless brigade. Seymour quickly sorted out the problem and got Christian’s men moving forward once again.
Late on the evening of September 17, General James Ricketts summoned Christian to his tent and delivered an ultimatum to the humiliated New Yorker: either resign his commission or be brought up on charges of cowardice in the face of the enemy. Christian chose the former course, and two days later tendered his resignation from the army claiming that “Business of importance” required his presence with his family. With his resignation approved, Christian returned to Utica, New York, claiming that his departure from the army was caused by intrigue among some of his fellow officers.
Christian fell into a state of despondency following his return to Utica. He actively sought other commands, and even offered to serve with no pay, but every one of his requests was turned down. He became more and more unraveled as the years passed by. With the war winding to a close in March 1865, Christian, although he fled from the field of battle at Antietam, managed to receive a brevet promotion to the rank of brigadier general of volunteers. But this gesture did not assuage his guilt and his depression. He became more despondent and was even unable to perform his work as a surveyor and civil engineer. Madness finally set in. He was once seen placing a saddle over the banister of his front porch, and then, after mounting it, delivered orders to an imaginary group of soldiers. Still, throughout the post-war years, the veterans of the 26th New York continued to invite their first commander to all of their reunions. At some of these gatherings, Christian erupted into fits of laughter. Finally, in early 1886, Mary Christian committed her husband to the state insane asylum in Utica. He died there on May 8, 1887, at the age of sixty-two. The cause of death was officially pronounced as dementia, but the local papers claimed that the old soldier succumbed to the effects of the heatstroke he suffered at Bull Run in August 1862.
After the death of her husband, Mary Christian applied for a pension, claiming that her husband’s demise was caused by his supposed wartime heatstroke. Veterans of the 26th New York rallied by her side and supported her efforts. Her claim, however, was denied.