Beneath His Shirt Sleeves (Part 2)

Instead, many are surprised to find an image of an older disfigured veteran. Personal photographic images are most often found in pension application files in which the person who sought government aid attempted to provide evidence of injury, identity, or relationship. The objective was to prove one’s entitlement to a pension.  When a veteran applied for a pension based on a war injury, a medical examination photograph taken by a doctor was convincing evidence.

At the Battle of Gaines Mill, Virginia, a Minie ball penetrated his left arm and passed through his elbow, shattering the joint and ending his army career. Physician and witness accounts in his pension application file describe Mixon’s daily physical challenges. He couldn’t flex, straighten or rotate his elbow. He couldn’t turn his hand over or lift his hand to his mouth.

For years he worked on and off in a rolling mill in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania doing a “boy’s job” with one hand, but co-workers testified that he labored hard and suffered much to earn no more than four dollars in a week.

Mixon wrote to the Commissioner of Pensions in June 1889 to request an increase in his pension equal to the rate allowed for total loss of a limb per the Act of August 4, 1886 pertaining to veteran amputees. He was successful in receiving the full rate of $36 per month. He collected this amount until his death on February 20, 1902 at the age of 75.

Although Eichel received an honorable discharge for disability in 1862 and was collecting a pension of $15 per month, he re-enlisted in the army in 1867 and served nearly two more years with the 44th U.S Infantry on guard duty in Washington D.C. His pension file reveals that he entered service the second time as a U.S. citizen having been naturalized in the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia on October 18, 1865.

Medical documents in his pension file provide a detailed picture of what he endured as he aged. His arm stump was in such a “diseased condition” as to prevent the use of any artificial arm, and he tried two. One physician argued that the amputation caused nerve pain to travel through his shoulder, chest muscles and stomach. He suffered from gastritis, diabetes, dizziness and weight loss due to his inability to digest food.  He was confined to bed by vomiting that continued for days. 

Another doctor concluded, “... if it weren’t for his strong will and superior intellect, he would be absolutely helpless. His trouble is, in my opinion, largely due to the nervous shock from loss of arm and the disadvantage to which this loss put him in his efforts to support himself and his family by hard and exhausting labor. “

Merrifield's unit was part of the Michigan Cavalry Brigade -- nicknamed the "Wolverines" but became famously known as "Custer's Brigade" when newly appointed Brigadier General George Armstrong Custer led the troopers on the farm fields southeast of Gettysburg in 1863 to end the fighting on Northern soil.

Confederate forces under General George Pickett were readying a frontal assault on the center Union line while Confederate cavalry legend “Jeb” Stuart prepared his men to simultaneously strike at the Union rear to exploit any success realized from Pickett’s charge. Custer, with a much smaller force, was assigned to defend the Union rear by riding the Michigan cavalryman out to meet the enemy head on. The Michigan men were outnumbered five to one, but advanced toward the enemy undaunted.

“The Wolverines idolized George Custer and would have followed him to hell, had he asked them to do so.” Major James H. Kidd, commanding officer of the Sixth Michigan Cavalry, writing to his father. Merrifield certainly must have felt that Gettysburg was a place worse than hell. Just one gunshot passed through both his left and right arms severing the ulnar nerve in the left and severely fracturing the humerus bone in the right.

Assistant Surgeon Henry C. May admitted him to the General Hospital at Gettysburg and captured these details about the moment that changed Merrifield’s life: “When wounded (Merrifield) was mounted and on a charge, the enemy’s cavalry being dismounted and deployed as skirmishers. (He) saw his antagonist about to fire, being four rods from him - turned his horse quickly and received the ball from the enemy’s carbine through both arms."

He became a respected merchant in Abilene and grew the business until 1886 when he sold it to his sons. With his work finally done, Merrifield submitted another application to the Federal government for an increase in his pension rate in 1899, but he died on August 6 before the Bureau of Pensions could render a decision. The supporting documents for this claim reveal the “hell” this gallant cavalryman suffered long after leaving Gettysburg.

It appears that Merrifield had overcome his disability to lead a productive life, providing for both the welfare and future of his family and earning the respect of his community. However, pension file documents reveal that throughout decades of selfless work as a provider for his family, he endured years of physical pain and suffering.

Their lifetime experiences can often be reconstructed using records preserved at the National Archives. Pension files are rich resources, but information can also be gleaned from military service records, regimental field books, hospital records, Federal census returns, registers for the National Homes for Disabled Soldiers and more.  Digital access to these Civil War-era tintypes encourages re-discovery and will remind future generations to learn their stories, lest they be forgotten.  

Catch up with more Civil War-era personal tintypes and veteran stories in Part 1 here: Beneath His Shirt Sleeves (Part 1)