Julius Bonello
Emma Ryan
Peoria, Illinois, United States

The colonel had had enough of her disrespect. He would consult his general about this nasty old woman.

“I didn’t know we had any nasty old women in our Army,” General Sherman remarked. “Who might she be now?”

 “I believe she calls herself Bickerdyke, sir.”

“Mother Bickerdyke?” the general laughed. “Oh, well, this is too bad. You’ve picked on the one person around here who outranks me. If you want to lodge a complaint against her, you’ll have to take it up with President Lincoln.”

Mary Ann Ball was born in Knox County, Ohio on July 19, 1817. When she was seventeen months old, her mother died, leaving Mary to be raised by her maternal grandparents. In her old age, she recalled her grandfather regaling her with stories of his days in the Revolutionary War, fighting on Bunker Hill, and owning an apple orchard planted by Johnny Appleseed himself.

In 1833, at the age of sixteen, she moved to Oberlin, and then to Cincinnati, Ohio, where she studied botanical medicine. In 1847, she married Robert Bickerdyke, a widower with young children. In 1856, the family moved to Galesburg, Illinois, where her husband died three years later. A strong and confident widow, Mary Ann Bickerdyke opened a practice as a “botanic physician” to support her children.

In the spring of 1861, Mary Bickerdyke attended services at the First Congregational Church in Galesburg, as she always did on the Sabbath. Pastor Edward Beecher, the brother of author Harriet Beecher Stowe and an eloquent, often dramatic speaker, appeared quiet and sullen that day. He announced that instead of giving a sermon, he would read a letter from a Galesburg physician, Dr. Benjamin Woodward, who had answered the call to service at the start of the Civil War. Dr. Woodward was stationed in Cairo, Illinois, along with hundreds of Union troops. The letter told a distressing account of death and suffering among his patients. The “hospitals” were filthy, fly-infested, ill-equipped, government-issue tents; the food was atrocious; young men died in droves from infected wounds, dysentery, and horrendously unsanitary conditions. He pleaded for donations to furnish more supplies.

By the time the pastor’s service ended, the congregation had raised more than $500; clean linens, food, and dressings were readied to be shipped. But they needed someone to escort it to Cairo. Mary Ann Bickerdyke was their unanimous choice, who agreed to go if someone would look after her children. Little did she know that, except for a few sabbaticals to raise money or collect supplies, she would be busy caring for sick Union soldiers for the next four years.

In June 1861, Bickerdyke climbed down from the train and stepped into the mud in Cairo, Illinois. When she saw the hospital that Dr. Woodward commanded, she was appalled. The hospital tents were overcrowded. The beds were crammed together such that there was no room to move between them. The floor was muddy and covered with human excrement. Swarms of flies encircled the patients. The patients’ clothes were filthy and encrusted with dried blood, vomit, and perspiration. The tin can for drinking water was empty.

Bickerdyke immediately went to work.

She directed volunteers to commandeer two large casks that were cut in half to make bathtubs. Soldiers heated water. Patients bathed, then donned clean clothes. That afternoon, instead of stale bread, salt pork, and boiled beans, they ate fried chicken and fresh bread with blackberry jam. After the meal, the floors were cleaned with new straw put down, and large tin cans were filled with fresh water.

That evening, Dr. Woodward appeared anxious. Women had to be out of camp at sunset. He would walk Mary to the train station.

“Do you think I’m going back, Doctor? I’m staying here. This is not a one-day job.” Turning around and addressing her soldiers, she boldly said, “I’ll see you all in the morning.” With that, Bickerdyke marched into town and found a room for the night.

Over the next two years, she worked closely with the Union soldiers under both General Grant and General Sherman. Because she was there of her own free will, Bickerdyke was often asked under whose authority she was working. Without pause, she would answer, “I have received my authority from the Lord God Almighty.” However, following continued pressure from her fellow service members as well as the Military’s upper echelons, she joined the Sanitary Commission in 1862. This gave Bickerdyke greater access to supplies and provided her a monthly income, which she sent back to her boys in Galesburg. In those rare times of respite, she traveled back to the major northern cities, giving speeches and petitioning for supplies. One of her trips to Chicago was just to purchase washing machines.

General Grant took command of the Union soldiers of the Western Theater in the fall of 1861. Under his command, the Union soldiers fought the great battles of Shiloh, Vicksburg, and Chattanooga. During this time, “Mother,” the soldiers’ preferred endearment for Bickerdyke, followed him religiously, setting up hospitals at every major battle. By the end of the war, she is said to have started over 300 hospitals while following Grant and Sherman.

At the battle of Chattanooga in December 1863, in bitter cold, high winds, and snow, Bickerdyke realized that her wounded soldiers would not be warm in these flimsy hospital tents. Needing wood for large fires, she asked if the soldiers could cut more in the nearby forest. The doctor in charge denied her request, claiming it was too close to nightfall and too cold for the troops to work. He then rode off to stay in his heated quarters.

Incensed by his answer, Bickerdyke asked the soldiers to cut the wood used in the breastworks surrounding their camp. Soon, a blazing fire was burning, radiating heat and live-saving warmth for her patients. She and two volunteers baked pies for the soldiers.

In the morning, seeing her handiwork, the commanding officer demanded Bickerdyke’s arrest. She kept on working, but later, a formal hearing took place. She argued that the Northern families, if aware of the circumstances, would have agreed with her. The charges were dropped, and Mary continued to provide proper nutrition and nursing care for her patients.

In 1864, after General Sherman had defeated the Confederate troops in Atlanta, he began his march to the sea. He asked Bickerdyke not to accompany him but to meet him with a supply ship at Savannah. When he arrived, Mary saw his troops in fine condition. She instead used her supplies to treat and feed the prisoners liberated from the infamous Andersonville prison.

At the conclusion of the war, General Sherman requested that Bickerdyke ride at the head of the Army of the Tennessee in a triumphant grand review of the armies held in Washington DC. She then refused a chair on the viewing stand, opting to work at an aid station handing out drinks and food to tired soldiers in the crowd.

Mary Ann Bickerdyke moved back to Illinois for two years before settling in Kansas, where she opened a hotel with the help of General Sherman. She continued to care for veterans there, helping them obtain pensions, and did the same for over 300 nurses who had served in the war. In 1886, she herself was awarded a pension of 25 dollars per month. With this support, she retired to Bunker Hill, Kansas in 1887 to live with her son. Mary died on November 8,1901 in Kansas and was buried in Galesburg, Illinois, next to her husband and daughter.