From First Bull Run to Hospital Command 17

Chapter Two

From First Bull Run to Hospital Command

“When I graduated in medicine in the College of Physicians and 

Surgeons...my ambition did not extend beyond the hope of securing a living practice in the country,” the 64-year-old Sternberg 

said at a retirement dinner given in his honor in New York City in June 1902.1 To 

that end, he moved to a small village on Long Island where the death of a local 

physician provided him a professional opportunity. Sternberg also remembered 

on that same June evening that, “I was not able to fill this vacancy for my professional shingle was displayed for several months and I did not receive a single 

professional call.”2 This may not be an exaggeration nor was it an unusual circumstance for a new medical graduate in 1860. The increasing number of regular and 

eclectic practitioners generated fierce competition for a finite number of patients. 

When an obituary announced a physician’s death, others scrambled to replace the 

shingle of the deceased with their own. Sternberg may not have been the only 

doctor attempting to fill the vacancy in the Long Island community; however, it 

was a conservative town that was very unreceptive to an inexperienced stranger assuming the role of a long-trusted physician.3

Discouraged, he relocated to Elizabeth City, New Jersey, in late 1860 or very early 

1861. There, he was “getting a little practice,” as he recalled it, “when the war tocsin 

sounded.”4 This passage gives the impression that his practice was beginning to 

improve, and only the national crisis overwhelming the country interrupted his 

continued success. In reality, by the second week of April 1861, Sternberg was 

once again residing at Hartwick Seminary. Apparently, the little practice he had 

received was not enough to secure a living. In a letter to Secretary of War Simon 

Cameron on April 14, he stated his desire to become a medical officer in the 

army and enclosed with this letter a character reference from family friend and 

U.S. Supreme Court Justice Samuel Nelson. He left no indication why he decided 

to apply for a position in the army. Whether the bombardment of Fort Sumter 

on April 12 influenced his decision to enter military service or it was temporally 
18 The Life and Science of Surgeon General George Miller Sternberg 

coincidental is unknown. However, the fact that he enclosed a letter of recommendation with his April 14 request suggests that he had been contemplating military 

service well before this date and before President Lincoln’s call for troops.5

The War Department responded to Sternberg’s request by April 22 and directed 

him to report to the Army Examination Board in New York City on May 1. 

Sternberg, however, did not receive this instruction until May 3. The apparent 

result was that he sat for the examination board, composed of surgeons Clement 

A. Finley, Charles McDougall, and William Sloan, on May 13. Although the 

government needed medical officers, it clearly recognized the low quality of medical education received by the majority of American physicians. To protect itself 

from incompetent practitioners, the U.S. Army required each candidate to pass a 

700-point examination covering subjects such as literature and scientific qualification; anatomy and physiology; and the principles and practice of medicine, surgery, obstetrics, materia medica, chemistry, and medical jurisprudence. The exam 

also evaluated the general aptitude of each candidate. Kenneth Ludmerer said that 

medical education was so deficient at the time that the examination “...could be 

passed by only a quarter of the country’s medical graduates who took the exam, 

even those with degrees fresh in hand.”6 If this is true, then Sternberg’s examination class was extraordinary in its composition. Of the 28 candidates examined, 

three withdrew and three were disqualified for medical reasons. When the final 

grades were released, all 22 of the remaining candidates were accepted into the 

army. Although he stood dead last in the class, Sternberg’s performance was not 

as shabby as his ranking indicated. He had scored 629 of the possible 700 points; 

his lowest score, 81, was in literature and scientific qualifications, and he scored 

only 83 on general aptitude. In all other subjects, he scored 90 percent or greater. 

Sternberg entered into a contract with the U.S. Government on May 20, 1861, 

which paid him $100 per month for an unspecified time period, and 11 days later 

he was commissioned a first lieutenant in the U.S. Army Medical Corps. This was 

the beginning of his military career.7

When the war began, the only hospital in the capital was the Washington Infirmary on E Street. Ten additional military hospitals were established by the end of 

1861. Sternberg spent his first two weeks of active duty at the C Street Hospital—

actually two residences, Nos. 360 and 364—on the north side of C Street between 

41⁄2 and 6th streets, Northwest. In late June, he was reassigned to the Regular Infantry Battalion, which was commanded by newly promoted Major George Sykes and 

headquartered on 21st Street.8

In the spring of 1861, the U.S. Army was awakening from 13 years of peaceful 

slumber. After the war with Mexico, the army had been reduced to just below 

11,000 men and scattered across the expanding western frontier to contend with 

the native tribes as required. Since then, only the Corps of Engineers gained a 

modicum of renown mapping the trans-Mississippi West, raising the national 

Capitol building, and assisting in bringing clean water into the city via the Washington Aqueduct. The remainder of the army sat—ignored for the most part—in 

small, dreary little posts awaiting slow pay increases and promotions amid the 
From First Bull Run to Hospital Command 19

mind-numbing monotony of each new day. A small increase in pay, a modest 

increase in size to 16,000, and the adoption of the rifled musket were about the 

only significant changes the Regular Army could boast of over the past 13 years 

until President Abraham Lincoln enlarged its ranks by 22,714 men in early May.9 

The Army Medical Department remained relatively unchanged during these years. 

Colonel Thomas Lawson, the surgeon general, spent a long career attempting to 

increase the size and prestige of his department. He reported to the Secretary of War 

in November 1855 that the required contingent of surgeons did not “depend upon 

the numerical force of the army, but upon the manner in which it is employed; that 

is upon the divisions and subdivisions it has to undergo, and the particular service in 

which it is engaged.”10 Although Lawson’s statement can be considered an enduring 

maxim for military medicine, he was essentially ignored. Between 1848 and 1860, 

the Medical Corps grew by only 29 physicians for a total of 123 to serve 89 forts, 

various expeditions, the Soldiers Home, and staff positions. The perennial shortage 

of medical officers lowered morale as it precluded Lawson from granting them leave, 

except in emergencies; when leave was permitted, the surgeon had to find and pay 

for his own replacement. It also mandated that a large chunk of the surgeon general’s 

budget paid for civilian contract physicians. Lawson improved the status of medical 

officers within the army. As of February 1847, medical officers were given official 

rank, housing, and allowances commensurate with line officers. However, the rank 

they wore carried no weight with their peers in the line, and with Congress giving 

little attention to the issue, many medical officers felt the pre-1847 status quo continued unchanged. In 1856, Lawson convinced Congress to create permanent 

positions for hospital stewards because previously hospital stewards came from the 

rank and file of the regiment often without the aptitude or desire for medical duties. Even if a surgeon was fortunate to obtain a competent man for the job, the 

commander could relieve him from medical duties at will. Although the new law 

eliminated these problems, Lawson failed to take advantage of it and did not 

aggressively develop a trained corps of hospital stewards. The paucity of innovation and creative foresight displayed by Lawson with regard to hospital stewards was 

also evident in his management of medical facilities and logistics. Hospitals at many 

permanent western posts were inadequate and, to keep purchasing costs at a minimum, their medical supply system was based out of New York City rather than a 

more locally situated depot. Combat medical care—the collection, triage, treatment, 

and evacuation of sick and wounded soldiers—was equally deficient. No organized 

ambulance corps existed, and no blueprint for combat medical support existed. 

Estimated requirements for conveying casualties from battlefield to field hospital 

and permanent rear-area treatment facilities were based on Indian campaign presumptions, notably that there would be few injured to begin with and that the terrain 

would accommodate at most a two-wheeled vehicle and preferably a horse litter. 

Medical facilities, logistics, and the intricacies of combat medical support were not 

priority issues for Lawson and the army he served nor were they for his successor, 

Clement Finley, who would inherit an unprepared Medical Department only a few 

weeks before the first major engagement of the Civil War.11
20 The Life and Science of Surgeon General George Miller Sternberg 

“In the eyes of the North,” Margaret Leech wrote, “Washington was a cherished 

symbol of the nation’s power, to be held and defended at all costs.”12 Lincoln’s plea 

for volunteers to defend the capital was answered immediately. Almost overnight 

Washington became an armed camp. Soldiers were quartered in and around the 

city until late May when General J. F. K. Mansfield, commander of the Department 

of Washington, directed the seizure of Alexandria and Arlington in Virginia. 

Afterward, national forces—now designated the Department of Northeastern 

Virginia—were bivouacked on Arlington Heights. Sternberg moved with his 

regiment to the heights on July 4, 1861. The commander of this new department 

was Brigadier General Irvin McDowell.13

On June 24, McDowell’s plans to strike the Confederate forces at Manassas Junction were approved. Although he had a clear vision for dealing with the secessionist 

army, his medical director, Surgeon William S. King, had none for the medical 

organization of the army or the enormous casualties the battle would create. 

After all, King was a 24-year veteran of Lawson’s Medical Department who had 

returned from a New Mexico post only a few weeks before marching off to war. 

His after-action report on the Bull Run Campaign indicates that he was cognizant of 

the importance of field sanitation and hygiene, but unaware of how to coordinate combat medical support for such a large army. King, who thought in terms of Indian 

campaigns, had no general plan for managing and evacuating combat casualties; 

no secure rear-area hospital was initially established, and Finley denied his request 

for more ambulances. Only 48 of these vehicles supported the Union army at Bull 

Run, but few had trained ambulance attendants and only hired civilian drivers. 

King ordered additional medical supplies, but they never arrived. Although a 

major battle was expected, King, like many others in the army, believed that after a 

brief, sharp skirmish, the Confederates would simply run away.14

First Lieutenant Sternberg, with little experience as a physician and none as a 

soldier, marched east out of the capital toward Manassas on July 16. The Regular 

Battalion was a composite unit of eight regular army companies commanded by 

Major George Sykes, which formed part of Colonel Andrew Porter’s Second 

Brigade in Colonel David Hunter’s Second Division. The line-of-march for the 

Second Division went through the Fairfax Courthouse and on into Centreville, 

where it remained for 2 days awaiting a supply train to bring rations and ammunition. A skirmish just south of Centreville at Blackburn’s Ford early on July 18 was 

a poorly coordinated and bloody action. It disabused the federals of the notion 

that Confederate forces would disperse at their approach, and it had a sobering 

and demoralizing effect on volunteers in McDowell’s army. Sternberg was fortunate 

to be surrounded by experienced soldiers as he contemplated the coming conflict, and he inspected his medical equipment and personal kit one last time. As a 

Regular Army surgeon, he was also more fortunate than other volunteers because 

he had an orderly, a hospital steward, and ambulances (the two-wheeled type) 

with attendants. Finley and Assistant Surgeon R. H. Coolidge deemed the twowheeled ambulances, which were not as sturdy as the four-wheeled models offered 

to the Medical Department, as the best conveyance for casualties in 1859. Given 
From First Bull Run to Hospital Command 21

the shortage of ambulances and the light marching order, Sternberg had to ensure 

all medical supplies were packed into available ambulances—eight according to 

regulations—and in the two or three transport carts allocated to his battalion.15

The sound of drums broke the early morning stillness of July 21. Sternberg, like 

many of his comrades, probably had not slept well that night. McDowell would 

attack this day, and discussion of the coming conflict had continued late into 

the evening. Sternberg hastily prepared breakfast and two days of rations in the 

moonlight, and readied his mount. Camp was broken, and the army was put in 

marching order. Speed was critical, but darkness and inexperience generated confusion among the green troops and delays occurred. Sternberg’s unit, which was 

bivouacked one mile to the east of town and directed to begin precisely at 2:00, 

did not march through Centreville until almost daybreak. Then the better part of 

an hour was consumed in reaching a road just beyond Cub Run that meandered 

northwest through a tract of woods. Colonels David Hunter and Samuel P. Heintzelman turned their units onto this road to begin their flank march to Sudley Ford 

while General Tyler proceeded down the Warrenton Turnpike.16

Although advertised as a road, the lead elements of the Second Division, commanded by Colonel Ambrose E. Burnside, marched on nothing more than a glorified cow path through dense woods. In their retreat from Alexandria, the rebels 

had cluttered the path with trees that now impeded the Union advance. Ax, pick, 

and spade-wielding soldiers cleared the way, but the work sapped their strength 

needed in the ensuing battle. As the burning July sun rose, the day became intolerably hot, and the dust was stifling. Although the thick woods gave some protection from the sun, it precluded any breeze that might have relieved the suffocating 

atmosphere. Blankets, oilcloths, and haversacks were discarded. Medical Director 

King warned McDowell that the pace would exhaust the army, but officers urged 

their fatigued and dehydrated men to close ranks and compensate for earlier delays. To make matters worse, the flank march, which had been estimated at three 

to four miles, had to be extended to nearly six miles to keep beyond the range of 

Confederate artillery along Bull Run.17

The Regular Infantry Battalion, in the rear of the formation, broke out of the 

woods into the clearing a mile north of Sudley Ford to the sound of cannon fire 

at about 10:00. Colonel Nathan G. Evans’ batteries on Matthews Hill, which was 

the extreme Confederate left flank, had been alerted to McDowell’s tactics by the 

large dust cloud generated by the marching column. Hunter led Burnside’s brigade 

down the Manassas-Sudley Road into Confederate artillery fire, which rapidly 

became a maelstrom. Hunter was wounded, and Burnside’s troops, which did not 

have the strength to overwhelm the rebel batteries, stalled on the northern slope 

of Matthews Hill. Sykes’ Regular Battalion was immediately ordered to support 

Burnside. As Sternberg moved forward with his unit, Surgeon Charles C. Keeney, 

medical director for Hunter’s Division, intercepted him. Keeney related that Hunter 

had been seriously wounded and directed Sternberg and his attendants to assist 

him. Sternberg rushed to Hunter and found him “... leaning against a tree with a 

wound in his neck, which proved not to be serious. I saw that I could be of no use 
22 The Life and Science of Surgeon General George Miller Sternberg 

to him as there were plenty of Surgeons around him; I, therefore, hastened with 

my attendants to find our regiment.”18

Amid the smoke and increasing noise of battle, Sternberg discovered his battalion 

“just entering into the action, and some distance in advance of all others in our 

Division.”19 The Regular Battalion bolstered Burnside’s troops and sustained a concentrated fire from rebel batteries and regiments for more than an hour. Casualties 

mounted rapidly on both sides. Medical care consisted of simple dressings in the 

majority of cases. Those more seriously wounded were loaded into ambulances for 

transport to the rear where hospitals had been set up in the Sudley Church and 

some of the nearby farmhouses. During this time Sternberg found himself under 

direct battery and small arms fire. He later reported, “Thinking it useless to remain 

in such a dangerous position, I called to my Steward and attendants to come to one 

side with me out of the range of the battery.”20

The establishment of Sudley Church and local farmhouses as hospitals was an 

afterthought of Medical Director King. Originally believing he could personally 

register all casualties in a notebook as he rode about the field with McDowell, 

King soon realized the magnitude of casualties that were being generated from 

the fierce action on Matthews Hill. It proved to be the most intelligent decision 

he made on that dreadful day. He dispatched Assistant Surgeon D. L. Magruder 

to find and prepare buildings suitable for treating the wounded. Magruder 

selected Sudley Church, beyond an unfinished railroad embankment near Sudley 

Ford, where he had pews removed, operating tables improvised, water and instruments positioned for convenient use, and blankets and straw placed on the floor 

for bedding. Two hours after the first ambulance arrived the church was full, and 

Magruder secured three other abandoned buildings for the same purpose.21

The intense fire under which Sternberg and his attendants labored resulted from 

Confederate reinforcements thrown onto Matthews Hill, but by noon both rebel 

flanks were being enveloped by the weight of the Union drive. They gathered both 

Federal and Confederate wounded as the Union ranks slowly pushed south 

toward the Warrenton Turnpike. The 4th Alabama Regiment was one of the last 

regiments to give way on Matthews Hill. The commander of the 4th Alabama, 

36-year-old Colonel Egbert J. Jones, sat imperturbable on his horse giving orders 

until a solid shot struck his thigh and knocked him from his mount. With a white 

handkerchief tied to the hilt of his saber, Jones awaited his fate, defiantly telling his 

captors, “Gentlemen, you have got me, but a hundred thousand more await you!”22

Sternberg found the still irascible colonel drinking from a proffered canteen and 

examined the “severe wound in [his] thigh.”23 He undoubtedly realized that the shattered leg would require amputation, and the Colonel had lost a considerable amount 

of blood. With the battlefield too fluid for an operation of this caliber, Sternberg had 

Jones taken to Sudley Church and then continued with the advance.24

The Confederate left fell back across Warrenton Turnpike and Young’s Branch 

to the slope of the Henry House Hill, and victory seemed assured for McDowell. 

But the Confederates held firm. McDowell threw one fatigued regiment after another at Beauregard’s line, but by mid-afternoon this piecemeal support caused 
From First Bull Run to Hospital Command 23

the Union drive to stall. Now reinforced, the Confederates attempted to flank the 

Union right from Bald Hill and Chinn’s Ridge, and panicked Federal troops began 

to waiver.25

From the bottom of the hill, Sykes recognized the impending disaster and tried 

in vain to rally his fleeing countrymen. He maneuvered his battalion down the 

Warrenton Turnpike to the extreme Union right and formed it into square on 

Chinn’s Ridge. The formidable square formation delivered controlled and concentrated fire, and kept cavalry at bay. Inside the square, Sternberg and his attendants 

watched as the disciplined volleys of the battalion repulsed the Confederate horsemen 

and bought time for the fleeing Union volunteers. Soon, however, the Regulars 

found themselves alone with rebels closing in on three sides and their batteries ripping 

holes in the blue ranks. Sykes determined that it was time to join the withdrawal. 

Just as he had advanced in the thick of battle with his unit, Sternberg now slowly 

retreated with it back up the Manassas-Sudley Road under harassing artillery fire. The 

road back to the ford became choked with cannons and caissons as horses were 

cut from their traces; haversacks, coats, blankets, and any other piece of equipment that might impede the headlong flight from the battlefield were scattered 

in every direction. Sternberg echoed McDowell’s opinion of the retreat when he 

later wrote, “...they [the soldiers] became so panic stricken that the retreat was a 

complete rout. The men would make no attempt to rally, and many of them threw 

away their muskets and cartridge boxes, each one seeming to think of nothing but 

his personal safety.”26 Trudging up the road, Sternberg searched in vain for the 

horse he had left tied up at a farmhouse earlier in the day. He continued on foot 

up the road until he arrived at the Sudley Church where he “... found 280 of our 

wounded, without any attention. I at once resolved to remain with them and do 

what I could to relieve their suffering. Some 6 or 7 surgeons of different volunteer 

regiments also remained.”27

Just as King had no plan to coordinate and implement medical care during the 

battle, he now had none to evacuate as many of the wounded as possible during the 

inglorious retreat back to Washington. Many of the ambulances that had been on 

the field were abandoned by their contract drivers and appropriated by nonmedical 

personnel to carry them away from the advancing Confederates. After the retreat 

began, the severely wounded laid down on the ground where they fell. Those 

capable dragged themselves to a field hospital or to some shelter hidden from rebel 

eyes. Apparently King and numerous other surgeons — to include William W. Keen, 

Henry R. Silliman, and Keeney — considered duty and fidelity to their comrades 

fulfilled when simple dressings had been applied, the remaining ambulances filled, 

and capture became imminent. As evening approached, the Confederate cavalry 

drove all but a large handful of medical officers from the church. Assistant Surgeon 

Charles C. Gray went forward to surrender and explain their situation. He met 

Lieutenant Cameron, who, in Gray’s words, was an “unreasonable man,” because 

he would not guarantee protection for the hospital or allow Gray to return to his 

work.28 Cameron informed the surgeons they were prisoners of war and ordered 

Gray to accompany him to Manassas. To a man, the Union surgeons were outraged. 
24 The Life and Science of Surgeon General George Miller Sternberg 

Although the Geneva Convention articles that would protect medical personnel 

from being treated as prisoners of war were three years in the future, the concept 

was understood and had been regularly practiced in Europe since the days of Frederick 

the Great. Regrettably, Confederate cavalry officers were ignorant of the laws and customs of war in Europe. Sternberg and 14 of his colleagues gave themselves up to a Confederate prison rather than desert the helpless soldiers on the Manassas battlefield.29

With the confusion, noise, fear, and urgency of the battle over, the agonized cries 

of horribly maimed soldiers had no competition. Their pleas for help filled the air 

and echoed from woods and battlefield. Although Gray had difficulty with Cameron, 

Sternberg appears to have dealt with the captain commanding elements of the 

1st Virginia Cavalry bivouacked near them. This captain allowed each surgeon to 

select one aide from the captured soldiers being driven along the Manassas-Sudley 

Road. The wounded completely filled the main floor and gallery of the church and 

overflowed into three other buildings and the churchyard. Nothing could have 

prepared these physicians for the onerous duties in which they became engaged. 

Musket ball and shell fragment extractions and amputations of mangled limbs 

comprised the majority of surgical procedures performed. Arms, legs, hands, and 

feet were tossed in a common heap; a visitor recalled that the dead were in “piles 

of three and four.”30 Sternberg recounted that “a number of capital operations were 

performed at the church, but, owing to the want of food and stimulants, and to the 

unfavorable circumstances under which the men were placed, most of these cases 

terminated fatally within twenty-four hours.”31 Not only were food and stimulants 

needed, but also medical supplies of all varieties.

Dark, overcast skies covered northern Virginia on Monday morning, and a 

heavy rain fell. Although a relief from the intense heat of the past few days, a 

temperature drop accompanied the precipitation and chilled the rain-drenched 

casualties lying around the church. Sternberg asked for—and was granted by the 

cavalry captain—a detail of Confederate soldiers to construct a 20-foot by 30-foot 

shelter from small trees and rubber blankets that littered the path of the retreating 

army. Once complete, as many of the wounded as possible were placed underneath 

and given a cup of cornmeal gruel, their first nourishment in more than 24 hours.32

Late on Monday evening, the captain informed Sternberg and his colleagues 

that they were to be taken to Manassas. Most of the surgeons were loaded 

into an ambulance for the journey, but the captain provided Sternberg with 

a horse. This may have been a kind gesture to spare him a jolting ride to the 

railroad junction, but because it was still raining, and according to Sternberg 

very cold, it made for a miserable trip. The weary surgeons proceeded eight 

miles down the Manassas-Sudley Road and arrived at the Confederate headquarters about midnight. They waited in the rain for nearly two hours while 

someone determined who had sent for them and why. There was no answer for 

the tired, hungry, and now furious medical officers. Sternberg was so angry at 

this barbaric treatment he could not be civil when crackers and coffee were put 

before them at the headquarters. Once they had downed this repast, they were 

herded into a barn that served as a guardhouse with some 40 other prisoners. 
From First Bull Run to Hospital Command 25

Soaked to the skin and wrapped in an army blanket, fury gave way to exhaustion 

and Sternberg slept.33

The following morning the Union surgeons were offered a parole: “We the 

undersigned do hereby give our unqualified parole of honor, that we will not, during the existing hostilities between the United States and the Confederate States 

of America, aid or abet the enemies of the said Confederate States of America 

by arms, information, or otherwise until released or exchanged.”34 In return they 

would be sent back to Sudley Church to treat the wounded. About half of the surgeons took advantage of this offer and were immediately returned to the church. 

Sternberg and three others remained obstinate and declared not only their desire, 

but also their right to treat the wounded without the approval of their captors. For 

reasons unknown, the Confederates shortly thereafter offered another parole that 

only required them not to escape or give information to the enemy for five days. If 

the surgeons signed it, then they could take care of their wounded and move about 

Manassas on their own recognizance. These more reasonable terms were acceptable and readily signed.35

More Union casualties were placed in a building at the railroad yard. Sternberg 

remarked that some had just been brought in from the battlefield, having lain in 

the rain for nearly two days without care. Although this may have been true for 

some soldiers, Assistant Surgeons Gray and James M. Lewis had been doing their 

best to locate those still on the field, stabilize them at Sudley Church and the Lewis 

House, and then transport them to the Manassas railhead. On Tuesday afternoon, 

Confederate surgeons instructed Sternberg and his colleagues to dress wounds 

and load as many of the men onto the floors of the waiting railcars as possible. 

Working until after sunset, they were assured the train would depart momentarily 

for Culpeper and Charlotte. But when the Union surgeons arrived at the railyard 

the next morning, the same loaded train they had left the evening before greeted 

them. The wounded had received no food, water, or any attention since the surgeons 

had departed, and they remained there until Wednesday night.36

Since taking their parole, all of the Union surgeons had been treated well and 

were allowed to dine with the Confederate surgeons and talk freely among themselves. Sternberg and fellow captive Dr. Edward Taylor had discussed the possibility 

of escape in their free moments. Medical supplies were being consumed rapidly, 

and the Confederate Medical Department loathed sharing their valuable supplies 

with soldiers bound for prison. With each passing day, there were fewer ways a 

surgeon could alleviate a prisoner’s suffering and no indication that the government 

in Richmond would agree to an exchange of medical officers. Both men continually watched for an opportunity to escape, and, on the evening of July 25, their 

captors provided one. Sternberg and Taylor were sent to attend wounded from the 

skirmish at Blackburn’s Ford who still remained at Centreville. In Centreville they 

were quartered in the home of Dr. Alexander, a local physician. Attracted to 

Alexander’s bookshelves, Sternberg found an atlas that contained what he considered a fine map of northern Virginia and tore it from the book. “From this 

I ascertained that Washington was about East of Centerville.”37 Sternberg later 
26 The Life and Science of Surgeon General George Miller Sternberg 

wrote, “I told the Doctor [Taylor] that our best plan was to go North for about 15 

miles and then East until we struck the Potomac. By doing so I thought we should 

evade pursuit and leave the Secession troops all to the South of us.”38

Both physicians were prepared to depart as soon as the wounded at Centreville 

were on their way to Manassas. However, early on Sunday morning, July 28, 

Taylor returned to Manassas, apparently to catch the train for Richmond. Taylor’s 

departure was an ominous sign because it was Sternberg’s parole that was up at 

noon that day; Taylor still had two days remaining on his gentleman’s agreement. 

Sternberg must have believed that it was really him they were after when Taylor 

was taken. If so, and the mistake was discovered, the next rider down the Warrenton 

Turnpike may be coming after him. After a noon meal with Dr. Alexander, Sternberg 

made his last rounds on the remaining patients, stuffed half a dozen crackers in 

his pocket, lit a cigar, and casually strolled out to one of the sentries. He inquired 

of the sentry where he might find some red oak trees as he needed the bark for 

a wound poultice. The sentry promptly directed him to the woods about a half a 

mile north of town where there was an abundance of oak trees. Leisurely, Sternberg 

made his way into the woods where, once among the protective cover of the trees, 

he bolted north to freedom.39

Sternberg traveled a northerly course, in general, but fatigue, his unfamiliarity with the Virginia countryside, the less-than-detailed map he had taken from 

Alexander’s library, and the weather all combined to make his trek frustrating. 

He crossed a stream he believed to be Bull Run—actually Rocky Run—after 

walking what he estimated to be about two miles. Entering a thick forest of second 

growth pine, he found the trek slow and difficult, and a late afternoon thunderstorm only complicated his journey by obliterating the sun. Sternberg took refuge 

in a deserted cabin. Just before sunset, as the sky cleared, he realized he had been 

backtracking under overcast skies. Determined not to travel unless he could see 

the sun, moon, or North Star, he stretched out on the cabin floor, smoked his last 

cigar, and fell asleep.40

A few hours later, Sternberg was awakened by a voice. Someone was calling him; 

he distinctly heard his name. He sprang from his pallet with his heart pounding to 

find himself alone. It had only been a dream. He gazed outside to find the sky clear 

and a bright moon rising. Sternberg pushed on, avoiding houses and open fields 

and sustained himself with the crackers he brought and blackberries he found 

along the way. He continued on through thick woodland until very early on the 

morning of July 29 when cloudy skies and exhaustion demanded he rest again until 

sunrise. Near noon, he came across a man working in a field. Sternberg realized 

that making himself known to this man might be imprudent, but he suspected he 

might be lost again. He had to determine his location. Wet and filthy, with his uniform in tatters, but trying not to appear desperate, he boldly approached the man 

and asked where he was. The farmer informed him the Potomac was one and a half 

miles farther east and Washington was only 12 miles up the road, but added that 

a large number of South Carolina troops were patrolling that thoroughfare. Cautiously, he continued his cross-country journey east until he struck the Potomac. 
From First Bull Run to Hospital Command 27

As he proceeded south along the river, good fortune and a prosperous Potomac 

fishing industry provided him with an abandoned boat. He paddled down the 

river until he reached a dam about five miles above Washington, landed on the 

Maryland side, and continued on by foot. Whether emboldened by his encounter 

with the farmer or from some obvious sign that the inhabitants had Union sentiments, Sternberg stopped at the first house he found. The owner was a generous 

Irishman who fed him bread and butter, and milk. He told his hungry guest the 

capital was five miles farther down the road. Refreshed and confident, Sternberg 

once again took up the road to Washington. He met up with couple of soldiers 

from the 6th Maine Regiment camped near Chain Bridge who eagerly assured him 

that their commander would assist in returning him to his unit.41

Once in camp, Sternberg met with Colonel Abner Knowles and described to 

him the events of the past few days. Knowles promised to return him to Washington expeditiously. Before being dismissed, however, another soldier entered the 

tent. In the dim light, he studied the weary physician sitting in tattered uniform 

and asked if he had not been in the guardhouse the previous evening. Sternberg 

assured all present that a mistake had been made, but the soldier immediately produced four of his comrades who verified his accusation. Rising from his chair in 

agitation, Sternberg reiterated to those present that he had spent the night hungry 

and alone in the Virginia woods and not in their jail. When he did so, one of the 

verifying soldiers recanted saying that the accused was a head shorter than the 

man they sought. Knowles’ promise to send him to Washington, however, failed to 

materialize, and Sternberg spent an uncomfortable night in the 6th Maine camp. 

His escape had been accompanied by good fortune, which the accusing soldier in 

Knowles’ tent may have brought to an end. Rising at 5:00 a.m., Sternberg proceeded to the capital on foot. He reported to Commanding General Winfield Scott and 

the surgeon general the same day, and he was reunited with his unit on Arlington 

Heights where he gave his report to McDowell.42

General George B. McClellan replaced McDowell 10 days after the Bull Run 

battle. McClellan surveyed the post-Bull Run army and found it lacking discipline 

and organization. One of the ways in which this would be corrected was to 

establish martial law in the city. The drowsy little city with its pretentious, partially 

completed buildings, unpaved streets, and stinking canal was deluged by an unending flow of men and materiel as the new commander began building the Army 

of the Potomac.43

The Regular Battalion was ordered back into Washington in August as part of the 

provost guard for the capital. Sternberg spent the winter of 1861–1862 contending 

with the injuries and diseases of a regular regiment garrisoned in a city lacking in 

hygiene and brimming with night life. If his experience was anything like that of 

garrison surgeons before and since, he saw primarily gonorrhea, syphilis, respiratory disease, and diarrhea. Washington teemed with houses of prostitution—some 

67 if the Provost Marshall’s record was correct—and a third of them were concentrated in the quadrangle formed by 15th Street West and Pennsylvania, Louisiana, and Ohio Avenues.46 Typhoid fever made a significant impact on the army 
28 The Life and Science of Surgeon General George Miller Sternberg 

in general, but acute bronchitis and pneumonia were the most common maladies 

encountered, followed by acute diarrhea and dysentery. Sykes, now a brigadier 

general, had one of the healthier brigades around the capital that winter if the 

early January 1862 report of 10 percent total sickness among his command can 

be considered representative.44 When the army broke camp in March, most of the 

soldiers were immune to the childhood infectious diseases and the majority had 

been vaccinated against smallpox. Although the seriously ill remained in camp, a 

significant number of those deployed formed the nidus of infections that would 

plague the forthcoming operations in the swamps of southeastern Virginia.45

Lincoln approved McClellan’s “Urbana Plan” in mid-winter—a waterborne 

flanking movement staged from Annapolis that would land his army at the tobacco 

port of Urbana on the Rappahannock River. From this base of operations, McClellan 

intended to seize Richmond before General Joseph Johnston’s forces at Manassas 

could reinforce the Confederate capital. But the Confederate government, fully 

expecting McClellan to assume the offensive in the spring, pulled back its outmatched forces near Washington to defensive positions around Richmond in early 

March just before the Union general initiated his plan. With his plans now obsolete, 

McClellan shifted the staging area to Alexandria, Virginia, and his forward base 

to Fort Monroe. Lincoln approved the change on the condition that Washington 

and Manassas remained secure. By mid-March 1862, the port of Alexandria became 

a loud, bustling center of military activity. Cattle, horses, wagons, cannons, caissons, ammunition, pontoon bridges, and various supplies required to sustain an 

army of 135,000 men were collected and moved to the wharves for loading onto 

transport vessels.46

Major Charles Tripler had directed medical arrangements for the Army of the 

Potomac since August 1861. A 56-year-old veteran, Tripler was an intelligent, 

competent medical officer and experienced campaigner. Abhorred by the 

Medical Department’s poor showing at First Bull Run, Tripler worked methodically to preclude a repeat performance. Medical personnel, supply, patient regulating, 

land and water evacuation, unit sanitation, and hospital organization were all 

addressed for the coming campaign. Experienced regular officers were assigned as 

brigade surgeons, and Tripler impressed upon them the importance of sanitation 

in the regiments. He requested an experienced quartermaster officer and subsistence officer for his staff to ensure medical supplies, transportation, and hospital 

rations were more easily obtained. Tripler discouraged evacuation to general 

hospitals because, in his view, the care was worse and it was a drain on manpower.47 

However, he recognized that an army on the move could not be encumbered with 

sick soldiers. Evacuating them from the front to the 1,000-bed facility being created 

at Fort Monroe obviated the need for an intermediate level of care between the 

regimental and general hospitals. Tripler had brigade hospitals established and 

in working order before deploying. To move these patients, he estimated that 250 

four-wheeled ambulances would be required and, while he recognized the need 

for a dedicated ambulance corps, the organization and training of such a corps 

required more than time and current regulations allowed. As for water evacuation, 
From First Bull Run to Hospital Command 29

he had to rely on Quartermaster Department transports and the services of the 

U.S. Sanitary Commission.48

Tripler’s medical campaign plan—although thorough and sound—required a 

higher echelon of support for success. Those responsible for that support failed 

him. At the direction of the Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, the surgeon general 

took personal control of all general hospitals and ordered Tripler to leave his purveyor 

in Alexandria and a portion of his supplies. The Quartermaster and Subsistence 

Departments also denied him the special staff officers requested. To cap it off, only 

177 four-wheeled ambulances were dispatched, supplemented by the frail twowheeled type that Tripler despised.49

On March 17, the largest waterborne operation in American history began and 

with it the Peninsular Campaign. Sternberg watched these events from the confines of a hospital bed in the U.S. General Hospital in Alexandria. Three days earlier, 

he had been hospitalized with orchitis, a painful inflammation of the testicles. His 

hospital record gives no hint of the etiology of his condition. Mumps, the most 

common cause of orchitis in adult males, was present among the soldiers in the 

capital area that spring, but a traumatic injury could have also produced his discomfort. Sternberg’s unit, now a Regular Infantry Brigade, departed Alexandria 

on March 26. He recovered sufficiently to join his regiment engaged in the siege of 

Yorktown by the first week of April.50

From his arrival on April 2 until May 4, McClellan was plagued with problems. 

Naval support had not materialized, transportation was insufficient, his maps were 

misleading, Lincoln had removed forces in northern Virginia from McClellan’s 

control as well as his base of operations at Fort Monroe, and incessant rain had 

turned roads into bogs of thick, sticky goo. In mid-May, he reorganized his forces 

to add a Fifth and Sixth Corps. The Fifth Corps, commanded by General Fitz-John 

Porter at Cumberland Landing, included Sykes’ Division. Sternberg served with 

the 3rd U.S. Infantry in Lieutenant Colonel Robert C. Buchanan’s 1st Brigade.51

Tripler also faced mounting problems. Chickahominy fever—probably typhoid 

and/or malaria—was filling the regimental hospitals and draining resources. 

Tripler’s solution was to evacuate these patients immediately. But, without the 

direct quartermaster support he had requested, a dearth of ambulances and hospital transports, and limited support at Fort Monroe, his evacuation chain became 

a sluggish nightmare and patients suffered. Tripler begged the surgeon general for 

more doctors, more supplies, and more of everything, and he predicted disaster if 

they were not received. Regrettably, he also managed to alienate the U.S. Sanitary 

Commission, the only organization with the resources to provide him some relief. 

William A. Hammond, the new surgeon general who had replaced Finley in April, 

reassured Tripler that his office was doing all it could to support him. He gave 

Tripler the authority to solve problems and urged him to work more closely with 

McClellan. But as May turned into June, Tripler became frantic and his control 

slipped further away.52

Sternberg saw his first combat action in the Peninsula Campaign when Confederate forces fell upon the Union right at Gaines’ Mill on June 27. The 3rd Infantry 
30 The Life and Science of Surgeon General George Miller Sternberg 

was positioned on the far right of Sykes’ Division. A strenuous Confederate morning 

attack was followed by a short respite and then a determined afternoon assault. By 

late afternoon, under intense small arms and battery fire, the 3rd Infantry found 

itself in an exposed position receiving fire from front, right, and rear as the Confederates endeavored to crumple the Union right. The volume of fire was of such 

magnitude on the right that men fell in heaps. Thick, acrid smoke choked one and 

all, and the noise made verbal communication impossible. Throughout the conflict, 

Sternberg remembered, he “kept as near my regiment as possible, giving my 

attention to the removal of the wounded from the field, operating only in urgent 

cases.”53 He felt such urgent cases were few, but admitted he had “amputated on the 

field with none but my hospital steward to assist me.”54

Amputations could be performed rapidly under chloroform anesthesia, which 

all surgeons carried as part of their medical kit, but dangers existed to the patient, 

surgeon, and assistants conducting surgery under intense direct fire. As Sternberg 

indicated, and his colleagues on the field affirmed, there was little reason to perform operations under fire when a well-stocked and staffed hospital was close and 

litter-bearers and ambulances were available to clear the wounded from danger. 

The Adams house in the center of Porter’s position some 600 yards behind the 

firing line served as the main division hospital. The McGhehee house, which was 

nearest to Sternberg on the field, and outbuildings surrounding both houses were 

also filled with the wounded. Once treated, these patients—stable or not—were 

transferred by ambulance across the Chickahominy to the hospital at Savage Station.55

By 6:00 the Federal left and center began to give way. The McGhehee house, its 

outbuildings, and orchard became the last defensive bastion of the Union right. 

Now untenable as a hospital, Sternberg, Goddard, other surgeons, and their 

attendants rapidly cleared these buildings of wounded. Without panic or confusion and under the continued protective cover of regular artillery batteries, Porter 

withdrew from battle. Sternberg and the exhausted regulars received only a short 

respite at the Grapevine Bridge over the Chickahominy. Fearing a continued Confederate advance, they crossed the river soon after midnight, burned the bridges 

behind them, and halted on a hillcrest in the rain till dawn before pushing on to 

Savage Station. While the soldiers rested at Savage Station for some hours, the 

entire contingent of surgeons in Porter’s Fifth Corps assisted those already at the 

station in attending to the 2,500 to 3,000 sick and injured who occupied every 

available building and tent, and the rain-soaked grounds surrounding them. Hospital 

stewards and orderlies quickly loaded ambulances and sent as many of them as 

possible to floating hospitals on the James River.56

What could not be removed quickly from Savage Station was torched. Sykes’ 

Division resumed its retreat in the evening of June 28. Pelted by rain, the regulars 

slogged their way through heavy forest over roads made uncertain by the darkness. At dawn they crossed White Oak Swamp at Brackett’s Ford and assumed 

temporary positions while the last of McClellan’s army groped its way out of White 

Oak Swamp on June 29. Once again at the rear of the army, Sykes’ Division began 

another fatiguing night march. The regulars reached the plateau at Malvern at 
From First Bull Run to Hospital Command 31

mid-morning on the following day. Sternberg and the 3rd Infantry collapsed 

under a coppice of pines on the far right of Sykes’ position for their first sleep in 

four days. From this commanding position, Union artillery repelled the Confederate advance in the afternoon and continued the following day. Sternberg again 

participated in heavy fighting on July 1. Although the Malvern Hill Battle had been 

a tactical victory for the Union, McClellan continued his withdrawal to Harrison’s 

Landing to rest and refit his army.57

In his report of the Seven Days Battles, Sykes remarked that “the medical 

officers...were prompt and faithful in their onerous duties,” and mentioned them 

all by name.58 In addition, he stated that “Dr. Sternberg added largely to the reputation already acquired on the disastrous field of Bull Run.”59 In an era devoid of 

battlefield citations for intrepid gallantry in combat, a brave soldier could only 

hope to be recognized by his commander in dispatches and reports. This was the 

second time in 12 months that Sykes commented on the dedication and valor of 

Sternberg in his official dispatches.60

The army had marched and fought for an entire week in impossible weather on 

little sleep and scanty rations. Sustained by the excitement of the campaign, it now 

slumped, exhausted on the banks of the James River. The Seven Days Battles had 

exacted a severe toll on the soldiers and the ability of the Medical Department to 

provide adequate transportation, supplies, and care. There were fewer than 90 

ambulances, suffering from hard use on muddy roads, engagements, and mismanagement, thereby compromising field evacuation after Gaines’ Mill and Savage 

Station. Large numbers of sick and wounded had been forsaken to the Confederates. 

Although reports from the surgeons present during the campaign conflict on the 

adequacy of medical supplies before the Seven Days Battles, it appears that 

Tripler vigorously pushed all medical officers to ensure that their medical stocks 

and surgical kits were full and complete. In the Second Division, Assistant Surgeons Sternberg, W. C. Spencer, J. V. D. Middleton, and Edwin Bentley all agreed 

that medical and hospital supplies and ambulances were sufficient to meet their 

needs until after the action at Gaines’ Mill. However, the rapid retrograde movements following that battle—and especially after the Savage Station engagement—had 

necessitated that medical and hospital supplies and tents be destroyed or abandoned. 

Diseases such as malaria, typhoid, and other diarrheal disorders, and scurvy—as 

well as respiratory infections that had taken their toll from the early weeks of the 

campaign—now blossomed. The disaster Tripler predicted crashed down on him 

at Harrison’s Landing. Although sympathetic, Hammond had no recourse but to 

make a change to prevent further mismanagement.61

On July 1, Major Jonathan Letterman, also a veteran of the pre-Civil War army, 

relieved Tripler. However, unlike his predecessor, Letterman was endowed with 

organizational and administrative talents that allowed him to approach this medical dilemma with patience and creativity. He built on the trust he had established 

with McClellan earlier in the war in campaigns in western Virginia and rebuilt the 

bridges, which were burned earlier by Tripler, with the U.S. Sanitary Commission.62 

In the rain and mud, chaos soon began to give way to order with the arrival of 
32 The Life and Science of Surgeon General George Miller Sternberg 

food, tents, and many well-stocked and well-manned steamer transports on July 2. The 

U.S. Sanitary Commission fitted out two of these ships, which could accommodate 

250 to 1,000 patients, with supplies and personnel, and the Medical Department 

renovated others. Medical officers worked in shifts around the clock treating and 

preparing patients for evacuation. By July 15, 7,000 wounded had been evacuated 

to Fort Monroe. Letterman’s request for more tents and ambulances was answered 

over the next 4 weeks, and his systematic reorganization of the Medical Department—

for which he would become so well known—was begun.63

There was little rest for the medical officers at Harrison’s Landing. Enteric infections comprised the majority of illness encountered at Harrison’s Landing. 

There were nearly 49,000 cases of acute and chronic diarrhea and dysentery, of 

which 40 percent occurred in July. Typhoid struck 2,805 soldiers, and 10 percent 

of them died. Probably resulting from hepatitis A infections, jaundice affected 

1,161 soldiers, and intermittent fevers accounted for 7,715 cases of illness. The 

stress and fatigue of the past weeks, the care required by the sick and wounded, 

and the turmoil in the medical director’s office demoralized the already exhausted 

medical officers.64

Whether Sternberg was more fatigued and depressed than his colleagues, or 

perhaps had realized his own mortality among the dead at Gaines’ Mill and Malvern 

Hill, he sent a request, not through Medical Director Letterman, but directly to the 

surgeon general to be “relieved from duty in the field and ordered to some general 

hospital.”65 In direct, concise language that would become a Sternberg trademark 

in future correspondence with his superiors, he stated: “I have been on duty with 

the Third Infantry since the 20th of May 1861. Last summer during the retreat of 

the army from Bull Run I lost my horse, equipment, clothing, etc. This summer I 

have again lost my horse & nearly all my personal effects & it will be very difficult 

for me to replace them in the field. I feel very much exhausted by the arduous duties 

which have devolved upon me during the present campaign but should not shrink 

from continuing to do my best if this application should not meet with a favorable 

response.”66 With medical operations as they were at this time, Letterman would 

have flatly disapproved the request, an outcome that Sternberg probably anticipated. Although the surgeon general’s office controlled assignments, it recognized 

the disastrous effect circumventing the local medical director’s authority would 

have on departmental operations. Sternberg was informed that his application was 

being referred to Surgeon Letterman and that it “should have been sent through 

him [Letterman]” originally.67 He routed the document to Letterman and then 

inventoried his medical supplies and equipment on July 19. This appears to be 

his last official act for the Army of the Potomac. A severe case of typhoid fever 

put Sternberg aboard a steamer bound for Washington. It is unknown in which 

hospital he convalesced, but by the last week in August he had recovered sufficiently to perform light duty. On August 29, a letter from the surgeon general’s 

office directed him to report to Dr. Lewis A. Edwards at the U.S. General Hospital 

in Portsmouth Grove, Rhode Island. As if he feared the surgeon general would 

change his mind, Sternberg hastily packed and departed the capital that evening.68
From First Bull Run to Hospital Command 33

Portsmouth Grove Hospital stood on the low ground of Narragansett Bay’s 

eastern shore, which was eight miles from Newport to the north and 23 miles from 

Providence to the south. To the east of the 12-acre grounds ran the Old Colony 

and Newport railroad, and an adequate wharf was on the bayside that required 

lengthening before it could properly accommodate hospital steamers. The administration building and officer’s quarters, which was previously a hotel, stood in the 

center of the grounds with 14 new wooden pavilions on either side placed obliquely 

in a herringbone pattern. Each pavilion contained 56 beds and had a bathroom, 

lavatory, and watercloset on one end. Running the length of the avenue in between the two rows of wards was a covered walkway. When Sternberg arrived at 

the 2,200-bed hospital on September 2, he became the facility’s executive officer, 

where he was essentially the hospital adjutant as well as the second-in-command. 

He was responsible for all reports and orders generated by the hospital and the 

maintenance of hospital records, supervised all clerks and orderlies in completing 

these tasks, and made appropriate distribution of patients received.69

Sternberg was also in charge of the surgical wards. “Comparatively few are 

wounded men – less than a tenth of the whole number,” the editor of the Boston 

Medical and Surgical Journal commented, and the majority were “suffering from 

diseases contracted by imprudence, bad air, exposure, hardship, and insufficient 

food.”70 That cohort, however, represented anywhere from 170 to 220 patients. In 

the fall of 1862, when an epidemic of hospital gangrene—probably streptococcal 

wound infection—developed among these soldiers, the surgeons found that comparatively few patients could cause an epidemic. Sternberg was in charge of the 

surgical wards when the epidemic bloomed. Thirty-one years later, he recorded the 

events for another group of young military surgeons: “A considerable proportion 

of the cases were simple flesh wounds, progressing favorably to a cure by granulation and cicatrization. Others were of a more serious character and were attended 

with profuse suppuration...supplies of all kinds were abundant; nurses were in 

sufficient number and attentive, but the medical officer in charge [Sternberg] was 

young and inexperienced. Under his direction the wounds were systematically 

cleansed and dressed with absorbent lint, etc. Nature seemed to be fully equal to 

the work of repair, except in those cases where a mistaken conservatism at the field 

hospital had left compound fractures to her unaided efforts. In such cases profuse 

suppuration, and septic toxemia sapped the strength of strong men.... Doubtless 

it was from one or more initial cases that the infection was carried by the sponges 

of willing but ignorant attendants to a considerable number of wounds which up 

to this time were progressing rapidly towards cicatrization.... Wounds previously 

healthy became inflamed, painful, and angry looking, and within two or three 

days the cause of this change was apparent. The area of inflammation...rapidly 

extended and sloughs formed, sometimes as large as a man’s hand and extending 

deeply among the muscles and along the planes of cellular tissue. Fortunately the 

infectious nature of the malady was quickly recognized and the measures adopted 

arrested its progress...these measures included the removal of those not yet 

infected from the overcrowded surgical wards, a general cleaning up, whitewashing 
34 The Life and Science of Surgeon General George Miller Sternberg 

of walls, etc., and the necessary precautions relating to the conveyance of infection 

by sponges, etc. The treatment of the gangrenous wounds consisted of deep cauterization by means of nitric acid applied with a swab, the removal of necrosed tissue 

as soon as practicable, and the application of charcoal poultices.”71

Sternberg’s tour at Lovell proved to be only an 11-week sabbatical from field 

service. On November 15, the Surgeon General’s Office directed him to report to 

Major General Nathaniel P. Banks at his headquarters in the Astor House in New 

York City. Sternberg had been appointed deputy medical director for an expedition 

Banks was organizing into the Department of the Gulf. Foiled in his attempts to 

keep a hospital assignment, he dejectedly put his office and affairs in order and 

packed for the field once again. Although his selection for this tasking was probably 

based on the needs of the army at the time—or may have been purely serendipitous—it may also have come as a subtle rebuke from the Surgeon General’s Office 

indicating higher command displeasure at the tactics he initially used to obtain 

a general hospital assignment. However, Sternberg had served admirably at the 

regimental level in two major campaigns and was now familiar with the operations 

and administration of a large general hospital. Logically, these experiences made 

Sternberg an excellent choice for the role of deputy medical director.72

The Southern Expedition, which Banks had been organizing only since late 

October, entailed opening up the Mississippi River and gaining control of Mobile 

Bay. Surgeon Richard H. Alexander, the medical director for the expedition, sent 

Sternberg to Fort Monroe, where troops were assembling for the expedition to 

oversee medical logistics operations. On December 14, Banks’ flotilla steamed up 

the Mississippi and docked at New Orleans. Orders issued that same day gave 

medical control of the city over to Alexander and his staff.73

Banks and the Southern Expedition failed to meet any of Lincoln’s expectations. 

Dilatory to the extreme, Banks’ half-hearted attempts to support General Ulysses 

Grant’s investiture of Vicksburg only led to high casualties in two botched attacks 

on Port Hudson. During Alexander’s two-month absence in support of Port Hudson 

operations, the medical director’s office had been turned over to Sternberg’s stewardship. As acting medical director for the department, this gave Sternberg his first 

independent experience in medical command and directing a large public health 

organization. It also acquainted him for the first time with yellow fever, a disease 

that struck hard at the Union vessels that plied the Mississippi River and blockaded the river delta. Cases from these ships were treated at the Naval Hospital 

near the river levee, but never extended into New Orleans proper to any significant 

extent. These circumstances generated considerable debate between local physicians 

and their northern colleagues as to whether yellow fever was imported or derived 

locally and whether the quarantine procedures were as effective as claimed. Sternberg 

did not deviate an inch from the sanitary and quarantine directives of his commander, and, observing actions later in his career, he was a strong advocate of a 

robust quarantine policy.74

After 14 months in Louisiana, Sternberg requested and was granted 40 days of 

leave to go home to Hartwick at the end of January 1864. He took the opportunity 
From First Bull Run to Hospital Command 35

once again to submit a written request for a hospital assignment in the north to 

now Acting Surgeon General, Colonel Joseph K. Barnes. As before, he stated, “I 

feel it to be highly important for my professional advancement, that I have an 

opportunity for hospital practice,” but the tone of the letter lacked the edge of his 

similar missal from Harrison’s Landing 18 months earlier.75 He received orders 

to report to Major General Heintzelman, commander of the Department of the 

North, headquartered in Columbus, Ohio, upon the expiration of his leave.76

Sternberg reported on March 5 and was temporarily assigned to duty in the 

office of Lieutenant Colonel Charles Tripler, now medical director for the northern 

department. Among other duties, he traveled around Ohio examining discharged 

soldiers to verify their unfitness for duty. In early May, he was ordered to Camp 

Cleveland to examine recruits for the Ohio Volunteer Militia and find a suitable location for an officer’s hospital. Established as Camp Taylor in 1861, the post 

served as a rendezvous, organization, and drill camp for northern Ohio volunteers, 

and the camp’s one-story, wooden, pavilion-style general hospital had opened on 

January 12, 1863. Tripler found merit in Sternberg’s work and assigned him as the 

new hospital commander in May. At last, he could enjoy hospital practice and 

build on the medical career he so cherished.77

Sternberg had been in command less than three months when he requested 10 

days leave. These 10 days turned into a 13-week absence at Hartwick Seminary. 

Cleveland hospital was Sternberg’s dream assignment of the war, and he had made 

an extended home visit only 5 months before. For him to leave his new command 

so precipitously—and for such a long period—suggests some significant problem 

existed at home that he felt required his immediate and personal attention. In 

reality, it was more than a problem; it was a family crisis of such magnitude that 

it would be denied and remain hidden in the Hartwick archives for a century. A 

schism, generated by personalities and church politics, had developed between 

the two men Sternberg loved most in the world: his father and grandfather Miller. 

Sternberg had always been his father’s confidante, and he was aware that the rift 

between Levi and George Miller had originated directly from Levi’s zealous and 

rigid evangelical stance on political church issues.78

Whatever advice or consolation Sternberg offered apparently had little influence. 

In late November after he had returned to Cleveland, the festering tensions 

between his father and grandfather over teaching methods and control of the curriculum burst dramatically to the surface. Levi informed Miller that as principal 

of the institution his decision on such matters was final, and he expected Miller to 

assent. Miller bluntly told him that such would not be the case. However, at chapel 

two days later, Miller acknowledged before the entire school and Sternberg that he 

“had been excited & used harder language than I ought,” and, “if I had offended him I 

begged his pardon....”79 But Reverend Sternberg was in no mood for conciliation. 

To Miller’s surprise, embarrassment, and personal hurt, his son-in-law launched 

into a diatribe of the burden he had borne over the past 13 years, how he had given 

up the use of the principal’s house to Miller, and how he had treated him with 

great deference. He declared that he considered Miller’s position at the seminary 
36 The Life and Science of Surgeon General George Miller Sternberg 

as subordinate to his own and that at the end of the term he would resign. Hartwick trustees conferred in mid-December, ignored Sternberg’s threat, gave sole 

charge of the theological students to Miller, and placed Sternberg in charge of 

the classical school. Reverend Sternberg immediately tendered his resignation. 

Sternberg returned to Cleveland with a heavy heart. Fortunately, his duties kept 

him busy and on the move. Temporary duty at the general hospital in Louisville, 

Kentucky, consumed part of December and in early 1865, professional staffing 

issues required his attention as well as disability determinations for patients and 

their discharge from the service.80

In April, the war ended and the Federal government began to disband the army. 

On July 4, 1865, Sternberg received instructions to dismantle the Cleveland hospital. Patients still requiring treatment were transferred to Camp Dennison, Ohio; 

female nurses were discharged, and contracts with male nurses were terminated; 

and hospital records, property, and stores were packed for shipping. He prepared 

and sent his last report as hospital commander to the surgeon general. Orders 

dated July 17, 1864 relieved him of duty at Cleveland and assigned him to duty at 

Camp Dennison.81

Camp Dennison, which was situated 16 miles north of Cincinnati, now served 

as the rendezvous and training depot for the 13th U.S. Infantry. By the time Sternberg 

arrived on July 27, the hospital at Dennison was also being dismantled, and the 

regiment was preparing to move to its new home at Jefferson Barracks, Missouri. 

Assigned as Attending Surgeon to Headquarters, 13th U.S. Infantry on August 8, 

Sternberg selected the hospital and medical equipment he wanted to take to 

Jefferson Barracks. He then boarded the Lady Franklin, bound for St. Louis and 

his first peacetime assignment.82