The Grand Illusion: A Girl Soldier in the Civil War

By Caralyn Frooman Lipschutz and Jennifer Cooney Vulpas

In 1861, 15 yr. old Alexandra is sent to Virginia to learn how to be a proper lady. The country is already in the grips of Civil War when a battle begins nearby. Eager to observe and not be detected, she borrows a young man's clothes. Hidden behind trees, Alexandra watches as the first Battle of Bull Run unfolds before her. After the devastating clash, she is drawn onto the field when a Union officer mistakes her for an out-of-uniform soldier. Alexandra makes the decision to carry on the charade and joins the fight disguised as Alex, the Union soldier. In the American Civil War, over four hundred women dressed as men to serve as soldiers and spies. The character of Alexandra is based on the real life experiences of Sarah Edmonds Seelye, Sarah Rosetta Wakeman, and the other women who disguised themselves as men to serve as soldiers in the American Civil War.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532053740

Caralyn Frooman Lipschutz

Caralyn Frooman Lipschutz, grew up in Northbrook, Illinois, and attended the University of Illinois, in Champaign. She and her husband now live in Florida. Her three daughters were raised in Lake Zurich, and are still living with their families in Illinois, with two incredible granddaughters. The Grand Illusion is Caralyn’s first book.

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Copyright © 2019 Caralyn Frooman Lipschutz.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-5375-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-6756-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-5374-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019902265

iUniverse rev. date:  02/28/2019

Contents

Dedications

Introduction

Chapter 1   The Buck

Chapter 2   Off to Virginia

Chapter 3   Arrival at Belle Fleur

Chapter 4   The Auction House

Chapter 5   The Battle of Bull Run

Chapter 6   The Hospital

Chapter 7   The Willard Hotel

Chapter 8   The Theater

Chapter 9   The Mission

Chapter 10   The Discovery

Chapter 11   Delivering the Lost Orders

Chapter 12   Back into the Action

Chapter 13   The Knoxville Campaign

Chapter 14   Winter Encampment

Chapter 15   The Crater

Chapter 16   Carnage

Chapter 17   Revealed

Chapter 18   The Inauguration

Chapter 19   Ghosts

Chapter 20   Appomattox

Chapter 21   Celebration in Washington

Chapter 22   The Last Casualty

Dedications

I wrote this book for my girls, Aliyah, Melyssa, and Danielle. My grandchildren Natalie and Kelsey, and all the rest of my future grandchildren who I can’t wait to meet! I am grateful to my family for standing beside me for the last twenty years. They were my book ends, reminding me my manuscript was smart, strong, and worthy. They also reminded me that these women’s stories needed to be heard.

I want to thank Jennifer Cooney Vulpas whose beautiful artwork ornaments the cover and explains Alexandra’s challenges in the book without words.

To my Aunt, Sara Frooman, who spent hours with me on the phone editing every word and comma. To my cousin John Lee Ropiequet who reviewed the manuscript for historical accuracy. To my first non-family fan, Sarah Sulski. To Maggie for a great review from BookBuzz. To all the Frooman’s, Berkovsky’s, Pedechinsky’s, Barsky’s and Cibulsky’s.

To the people at iUniverse. From Eve Carson who signed me up, to the talented editors, who are writers themselves and knew the history of the war well. To my PSA, Reed Samuel, who was always positive, professional, and efficient with a stressed out author. Thanks to you all.

To my husband Steve, my Jonathan, who listens when I talk.

Introduction

Today, the empowerment of women is happening all around the world, but women have proved their strength and devotion to family and country long before 2019. In the American Civil War, over four hundred women dressed as men to serve as soldiers and spies. The character of Alexandra is based on the real life experiences of Sarah Edmonds Seelye, Sarah Rosetta Wakeman, and the other women who disguised themselves as men to serve as soldiers in the American Civil War.

Sarah Edmonds Seelye, alias Frank Thomson, was a Union soldier, nurse, and spy. It was Sarah who used silver nitrate to dye her skin and infiltrate General Lee’s camp as a black slave to spy for the Union.

Sarah Rosetta Wakeman, alias Lyons Wakeman, enlisted with the 153rd New York. She wrote letters home all three years of her service until she died in 1864. Lyons Wakeman was buried in Chalmette National Cemetery near New Orleans, her true identity never discovered by the Army.

Kate Warne was the first female spy in America and worked at the side of Allan Pinkerton in Washington. She often went undercover to spy in the South or carry information across enemy lines.

Mary Galloway was yet another woman who masqueraded as a man in order to serve her country. Clara Barton, nurse during the war and later founder of the Red Cross, discovered Galloway’s true identity when treating her chest wound after the Battle of Antietam.

In this book, Alexandra is assigned to the Forty-Eighth Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, and all her ventures follow the progress documented by this regiment throughout the war.

I’m thrilled to share this story with you! I hope you laugh, and cry, and fall in love.

-Caralyn

Chapter 1

The Buck

M y name is Alexandra Germaine, but my father, James, calls me Alex—and that never fails to make my mother, Charlotte, chase Father with a switch. They grew up on large plantations in Virginia. Both agreed that it wasn’t right to own slaves, so they accepted my grandpere’s gift of a home up north. They settled in Palatine, Illinois, which is just north of Chicago and practically the last stop on the Chicago and North Western railroad.

Living on the prairie where temperatures get down to below zero hasn’t dampened my mother’s spirit one bit, and she’s still making it her life’s mission to turn me into a proper lady. She wants to smooth out my rough edges, she says. Some of the smoothing is good, like learning French and how to play the piano, and I have to admit I’ve learned a lot from her about which herbs and flowers can help you when you’re sick. For safety, Father taught us all how to use a gun, but Mother would keel over if she knew I’ve been practicing in the woods by myself. I knew Father and Benjamin would never let me come hunting with them until I showed them I could handle a gun.

This morning, Father said I could come and that he’d let me take a shot at the first deer we found. I bound my hair up with a ribbon and pushed it up into one of Benjamin’s old hats. The spring was cold, but the end of May was warm and promising. The tall grasses were now over two feet high and sprinkled with wildflowers. The path was clear and easy as we walked farther into the forest, and I could feel strands of my hair falling loose from the ribbons, brushing my cheeks like feathers. Benjamin stopped sharply, and I walked straight into his backside.

That’s the biggest buck I’ve ever seen. Do you think you can handle him? Father whispered.

It wasn’t summer, but I could feel the sweat forming on my brow as I stared at the buck; he was hardly breathing and almost undetectable in the shadows.

He’s too much for her, Father, Benjamin whispered, but I’m sure I can sneak up on him.

No, I said adamantly, he’s mine. Father, you promised.

Alexandra, he only let you go hunting with us so you’d stop being such a nuisance. You may be wearing my old trousers and hat, but you’re still a girl! Girls are simply not capable of hunting, much less using a shotgun.

Benjamin was only twelve, two years younger than me, but you would never know it from the way he acted. He was born in 1849, and like most men, he believed that a woman belonged only in the home. He didn’t know that I had been practicing for over a year now with Father’s old shotgun. I started tracking small animals like squirrels and rabbits until I could come up to within just a few feet of them without spooking them away, but I’d never shot at anything alive before.

I looked at my father. He was tall and thin, with high cheekbones and a chiseled face; he wore his brown hair long and tied back with a braided cotton chord behind his neck. He gave me a sharp nod of encouragement. Go ahead, Alex. He’s all yours.

He was showing a great deal of faith in me, and I knew it, but from the look on Benjamin’s face, I could tell he thought it was a big mistake. He opened his mouth to protest again, but Father placed a finger to his lips to shush him and nodded for me to take my shot. I had to do this right; my family needed the meat. I went in closer for a clear shot at the buck’s heart. My best shot would be angled forward through the buck’s chest, but this shot left less room for error.

The buck had paused by the pond, poised in a dominant stance with his ears folded back and tail curved downward. His back was dappled by the sunlight that had broken through the canopy of trees. This was the moment. I straightened my left arm and nestled the shotgun’s butt into my shoulder. I pulled back the hammer and gently squeezed the trigger. I felt my spine tingle, a quick clutch at my heart, and a trembling in my entire body. The buck ran away, but I knew instinctively that I had hit him straight in the heart.

Benjamin came up behind me. Good job, Alexandra. You only wounded him. Now he’s taken off, and we may have lost him for good.

No, I said. The shot was true, broadside, to the heart.

She’s right, Benjamin, Father said, coming up behind us. The animal is mortally wounded. Even an animal shot through the heart can run as much as two hundred yards away. We have to move in the same direction he’s traveled and keep checking for blood signs.

The trail was easy to follow, and less than a hundred yards away, we came upon the downed buck. I’d envisioned my first kill many times before. Father would be so proud of me, and Ben would have a new respect for me.

How come things never work out the way we plan? What I was feeling couldn’t be called pride. The buck’s big black eyes stared at me accusingly. I knew that he’d died confused and terrified. No, it was definitely not pride I was feeling in the pit of my stomach now.

Nice job, Benjamin said reluctantly, and I tried to smile, but instead I turned my eyes away from the buck and vomited.

Father came and put his arm around me; he always seemed to understand how I felt. I’m glad killing isn’t easy for you, Alex. It should never be, but it’s a necessity. I’m proud of you, and I know you’ll always be able to take care of yourself. Ben and I can finish with the buck. Why don’t you go home? We’ll catch up.

On the walk back home, I tried to reach deep inside and find that feeling of excitement I’d had that morning, but it wasn’t there. There could never be excitement or happiness in any death; I knew that now. I tramped my way out of the closeness of the forest, back into the wild grass and sunshine. I felt relief when I finally saw our house. My grandpere had it designed in the Victorian style for my parents. It faced the corner of the lot and had an extra-wide staircase leading up to the covered porch. There different colors of paint made the house look cheerful, and the changing size of scallop siding with the gingerbread around every window made me feel as if the house were smiling at me, beckoning me into its sanctuary. I walked in the back kitchen door as quietly as possible, leaving the gun and boots outside. I could hear Mother in the front parlor talking.

Alexandra, is that you? Where have you been? my mother asked. Mrs. Wood has come to visit with her daughter, Susanna. Won’t you join us?

Mother made it sound like an option, but I knew it was just a politely masked order. Mr. Wood was the postmaster, and his wife helped at the post office. I was sure she worked there so she could poke her pointy nose into everyone else’s business. Her goody-goody daughter, Susanna, was even worse, always dressed in fancy clothes and acting like she was better than everyone else. If they saw me dressed like this, it would be all over town in no time. Mother would be mortified. I had told her I was at a girlfriend’s house. I had to think of something to get away fast.

I was at Susie’s house, Mother. I’ll be there in a moment, I said. I, I fell and tore my dress. Just let me change clothes.

Nonsense, Alexandra. Come in here and say hello. Then you can change.

I heard Mother walking toward me. I’d been caught.

Alexandra! Mother gasped in shock and lowered her voice to a whisper. You know that I’ve forbidden you to go hunting! Look at how you’re dressed! Clean yourself up before Mrs. Wood sees you. We’ll discuss this later.

Too late. Susanna was standing right behind Mother. My goodness, Alexandra, you look just like a boy. With all your hair piled in that hat, I’m sure I never would have recognized you. Ha! I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself, laughed Susanna.

Oh, go to blazes, Susanna, I said. Susanna looked shocked.

Alexandra! Watch your language, and go put on some suitable clothing, Mother ordered. Go, now!

I gave Susanna a glare and stalked off. That pompous swine. She’d been after me for years, and I walked right into the trap. By tomorrow, the whole town would know about my clothes and hunting. Well, Mother could deal with it, but if I were a boy, she wouldn’t be telling me what to do all the time. I didn’t feel sorry for her though. I knew she would just turn around and walk back to Mrs. Wood in the parlor. She would use all her Southern charm, and in the end, Mrs. Wood would think poor Mother was a saint for bearing the heavy burden of having such a wayward daughter.

How very strange. When I woke up this morning, I thought it was going to be such a great day, but now I just felt extremely tired. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide.

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The voices of my parents arguing in their bedroom woke me up. I figured I must have slept through dinner and Mother didn’t even bother to wake me. Another sign of how much trouble I was in. Their room was far enough down the hall that Benjamin and I didn’t usually hear them at all, but this time I was really in trouble.

Father’s grandfather came from France and began growing cotton on his farm. By the time Grandpere had grown and married, the family farm had become a large cotton plantation of almost a thousand acres. When my great-grandfather passed away, Grandpere renamed the plantation Belle Fleur to honor my grandmother and her beautiful gardens. The plantation has now doubled in size.

I tell you, James, Mother said. I could imagine her sitting in front of her dressing table mirror as she unpinned her long chestnut-colored hair and combed it out. She’s impossible! She has embarrassed us again. Mrs. Wood was here with her daughter when Alexandra came home. I heard her come in and asked her to join us. You can imagine my horror when I saw her. She knows that I have strictly forbidden her to do any more hunting. Mrs. Wood and her daughter looked as if a skunk had just come into the room. Believe me, James. She’s the postmaster’s wife, and she will have told everyone in town by tomorrow.

I had the same color hair as my mother, but our resemblance ended there. Where she was round and pleasingly plump, I was tall with an angular face, like my father.

Darling, Father said, trying to calm her, it’s not all that bad. Alex is just independent and strong … well, and maybe she is getting a little too big for her britches.

Father was trying to unruffle Mother’s feathers, but he didn’t realize his words were making my problems worse.

Don’t call her Alex, and she shouldn’t be wearing britches! She isn’t your son; she’s a young woman now, and her name is Alexandra. Maybe we made a mistake coming to this uncivilized, godforsaken place. It’s no wonder she’s grown into a wild stallion!

Mother began to let out one of her long, dramatic sighs, but I heard her stop midbreath. I had seen that happen many times before as her plotting mind came up with an idea she thought would solve everything. A subtle diversion was about to take place, and my father had no idea.

I’ve made up my mind, James. She has to go to Virginia. Your mother’s the only one who can help Alexandra now. Since Louis’s wife’s death, she has been helping raise his daughter. She has offered to take Alexandra before, and the girls are the same age. You know, I think it would be good for them both if we send Alexandra to the live on the plantation. One day she’ll be the mistress of her own home. She must learn how to deal with servants, clothes, food, and medicine. Lord knows I’ve tried my best, but with you encouraging her, she refuses to listen to me. She’ll be better off with your mother without distractions.

Send her away to Virginia? Is that necessary? asked Father.

Absolutely! What can the child hope to become if she continues to follow her masculine pursuits? Who will want to marry her? It is our responsibility as her parents to make this sacrifice and do what’s best for her. If you love her, James, you’ll make her go!

Father was silent. I listened breathlessly for him to counter each of her points, but Mother continued without interruption. They were arguing, but I was the one losing the battle. Father could never fight her if you love her speech; it always got him. He would do anything for his children, and Mother knew it.

All right, he said reluctantly. She does need some guidance, and no one could teach her better than my mother. Alexandra will get firsthand experience on the plantation, and she has missed Belle Fleur as much as any of us. A trip next spring to Virginia will do us all a lot of good.

Father was trying to stall for time, but my mother’s plans had already taken root in her mind, and there was nothing that could change them now.

No, Mother said. We can’t wait until next spring. I’ll write your family right away. I can take Alexandra to Virginia by train myself. Next year, you and Benjamin can take a holiday to join us when the girls have their coming-out ball and are formally introduced to the best of Southern society.

So, that was what all this was about. Mother must have been thinking about this for a long time. How could I have been so naïve? I had just sealed my own fate this morning, and I hadn’t even known it. This was her plot to tame me and marry me off to the proper type of boy. My mother was strong, but so was I, and I did not like my life being arranged for me.

I held my breath again, trying to listen for even the smallest sign of protest from my father, but none came.

Good, said my mother triumphantly. I’m glad that’s settled. Such a relief.

I had lost without being able to speak a word in my own defense. There was no changing Mother’s mind once she had it set. Eighteen sixty-one was going to be a long year for me.

Chapter 2

Off to Virginia

I t was six thirty in the morning, and in less than two hours, I’d be on the train leaving for Washington, DC.

Mother and I were having breakfast at the Tremont. It was her favorite hotel in Chicago because they always pampered their clientele. She could mix with the fashionable and wealthy patrons and pretend she was still that Southern belle in Virginia. I was sure that having me along tarnished her façade, and I couldn’t help but smile when the maître d’ seated us by the kitchen. Seats by the kitchen were the worst seats in any restaurant because you could see the staff running in and out of the kitchen. She would have preferred a table near the front door where everyone would see her.

I just don’t feel good about this, Alexandra, Mother said, continuing the conversation we had been having for the last two days. It’s not proper for a young girl to travel unescorted.

She’d made arrangements for us to travel to Washington where Grandpere would meet us and take us to Belle Fleur. We would take the train to Philadelphia first, change trains there, then continue on to Washington. The fifty-seven-hour trip with Mother was going to feel more like fifty-seven years. I’d never wish my brother ill will, but when he fell off his horse and broke his leg, well, it was misfortunate for him but offered an opportunity for me. Mother couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her baby’s side, so she wanted to postpone the trip. Father and I convinced her that I could travel alone; after all, I’d be fifteen on my next birthday in September. This turn of events changed my outlook about going to Virginia. Riding the train by myself and not having Mother at Bell Fleur watching my every move turned